


Timing

by ScullyFemme



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, everyone else is in this but yall know this is only about the two of them, post-episode au: s06e03 Triangle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyFemme/pseuds/ScullyFemme
Summary: Scully's reaction to his resolute "I love you" is far from what he'd expected. Shock and questioning, yes. But "Oh brother?" Did she not believe him? Maybe he should try again.AU where Mulder is more insistent on getting Scully to listen to his confession in "Triangle" (6.03)
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 18
Kudos: 175





	1. we'll talk about this later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got some NSFW stuff in this chapter! You've been warned

_ "I love you." _

_ "Oh, brother." _

Mulder’s heart sank at that. Was that really her reaction? Surely he hadn’t been misreading things between them. Did she just not believe him?

He reached out and managed to snag her hand before she could escape. He looked up at her with pleading eyes, hoping she'd somehow misunderstood, that she wasn't just rejecting him.

"I mean it, Scully."

Her expression changed, then. From humored dismissal to something akin to fear. Panic. "Mulder," She stammered. "You're- You're not serious. You just went through...well, an  _ ordeal _ and you're high on painkillers right now." She explained away his confession, rationalizing it. And he couldn't help but be endeared to her for it despite the frustration it brought.

He tightened his grip on her hand and swiped his thumb across the back of it. "Scully-"

"I don't want you saying anything you'll regret," She interrupted, her voice softer now.

He understood where she was coming from. If the shoe were on the other foot, he'd probably say the same thing to her. But he wasn't going to regret this. Well, it depended on her reaction (her  _ real  _ reaction), but he certainly wasn't going to regret this because of his condition.

"Scully, I..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell her about his kiss with 1939 Scully. Whether or not it had really happened, it had felt so real. And he wanted a repeat with present-day Scully. But he had a feeling that if he brought that up, she'd use it as more reason to dismiss his confession, seeing as she thought he'd dreamt the whole thing up.

"Mulder," She shook her head, and he realized that she looked trapped. She wanted to escape. Had he pinned her into a corner? He hadn't meant to. "Look, we can talk about this later, okay?" She glanced towards the door, and he knew he wouldn't get anything more from her. Not now.

"Okay," He murmured, letting go of her hand. He was disappointed. He didn't know what he'd expected, but this wasn't it.

Now free, she angled her body towards the door, then turned back, looking like she wanted to say something. She seemed to decide against it, though, and headed towards the door.

"I'll see you later, okay?" She said over her shoulder. She didn't wait for an answer as she slipped through the door and left, moving too fast to be casual.

He supposed he couldn't blame her. It had been sudden, after all. One second everyone was playfully berating him for his foolhardiness, the next he was confessing to her. It wasn't how he expected it to happen, either. But he had to do it in that moment. 1939 Scully had saved the world, but present-day Scully had saved  _ his  _ world. Time and time again.

And maybe the drugs had influenced his decision, but it still felt like the right one to make.

_ We'll talk about this later, _ she had said. Knowing Scully, she was hoping later would never come. She was hoping he'd forget about the whole thing, write it off as drug-induced. That when he was fully healed and fully sober, he'd realize it was a mistake.

But he was determined not to let that happen. Maybe the timing wasn't right, but when would the timing  _ ever  _ be right with them? Ever since that night in his hallway, he was thinking less and less that there would ever be a perfect moment for this.

He sighed and started to lean back down to his pillow, but stopped when he registered the pain in his left eye. Slowly, gingerly, he touched his fingers to it, feeling the shiner. He smiled, thinking of the kiss preceding that punch. He knew it had been real, despite what the little Scully-voice in the back of his head claimed. He laid down fully this time, letting that thought comfort him and lull him to sleep.

* * *

Scully's hospital visits were rare, for once. Mulder assumed she was afraid he'd bring the subject up again. She did agree to drive him home when he was discharged, however. He had a feeling that she was sticking to her “drug-induced” theory.

This was indeed the case. Scully arrived at his room with a tight smile, waiting to walk him down to her car. He was fully dressed and ready to go, and she handed him his coat that she brought with her. It was unseasonably cold today and she knew he would need it.

He took it and stared at it with an odd look on his face. One she couldn't quite interpret. It was gone as quickly as it arrived, though, and he escorted her out of the room with his hand on her back, as usual.

She was uncharacteristically chatty in the elevator, updating him regarding what the Gunmen had further learned about the ship. She gave more information than she needed to and even went so far as to rattle off explanations of nautical terms that her father had taught her. She knew she was being weird, but she was worried that if she stopped talking, he would say it again. Here. In this hospital. In front of people.

Scully stopped talking suddenly when she took notice of his black eye, which was mostly healed by now.

"You know," She said as their steps clicked in sync through the parking garage. "I don't think I asked you how you got that." She leaned forward so he could see her pointing at her own eye.

His hand went to touch it, and he smiled to himself. "Well, do you want the rational answer or the  _ real  _ answer?"

A frown crossed her face and she turned forward again, deciding to drop it. If he wanted to keep believing in that dream/hallucination about being transported to 1939 and punching Nazis by her side, then that was on him. She didn't want to encourage it by asking.

_ Even though you should know better by now that there's no way it could be real. I mean really Mulder, time travel itself is far from a possibility at this point in scientific advancement, and it certainly isn't lurking somewhere in the ocean waiting for you to happen across it. And besides, even if you did travel back in time, how the hell would I have been there with you when I was here searching for you? Or Skinner? Or the Cancer Man? _

She held back her lecture, letting her mind repeat it on loop like a sort of mantra as she drove. She didn't want to lecture him today, not with all this awkwardness hanging in the air. Get to his apartment. Get him home safe. Make sure he doesn't immediately run off and nearly die again.

The car ride was silent. She was lost in her thoughts, and so was he, but they were very different thoughts. She distracted herself with the scientific improbabilities of his tale while he wondered when would be the best time to bring his feelings up again.

He was surprised when she got out of the car with him, having expected her to drop him off and immediately go home.

"You don't have to walk me up, Scully. I know how to get to my apartment,” he joked.

She raised her eyebrows with a smirk. "I don't know, Mulder. Sometimes it feels like if I don't lock you in your apartment myself then you'll immediately run off to do something stupid."

He laughed a bit more than he probably should have, just grateful that she was joking with him. "How did you find me, by the way? Out in the ocean?"

She recounted the tale on the walk up to his unit (leaving out the part where she kissed Skinner square on the lips, since she still couldn't believe she'd done that. And it was weird to think that she'd kissed Skinner before ever kissing Mulder).

"And then we heard a loud splash and ran over to find you floating in the water. I don't know if you jumped or you fell, but either way, I don't understand how you managed to slip past us while we scoured the whole ship. I mean really, Mulder, you didn't hear us calling for you?"

He fiddled with his keys as they arrived at his door and simply shot her a smirk. They both knew his answer. She held back an eye-roll and settled for her  _ really, Mulder? _ face.

He unlocked the door and let himself in, then paused and turned as if to gauge her. If she was coming in.

She hovered a few feet away from his door, looking awkward. When she made no move to follow him into the apartment, his jaw tightened. He knew that if he let her walk away now, this would be swept under the rug. They'd go back to normal — whatever that meant now that they were off the X-Files. She’d continue thinking it was an accident, and he’d spend who knows how long wondering  _ what if. _

“Uh,” She moved awkwardly. “I guess I’ll-”

“Scully,” His voice was soft as he leaned out of his door. She looked up at him. Was that fear in her eyes? Or hope? “About what I said in the hospital...”

“Mulder, you don’t have to-”

“I meant it. I really did, Scully.” He leaned forward, his hand pressed against the door jamb as leverage. She was still so far away. “I keep thinking. About that night, in this hallway. What would have happened if...” He trailed off, not wanting to go in-depth about the bee incident. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, Scully, and that was what I was  _ trying  _ to say that night. Everything I said about how you saved me and made me a whole person.  _ That  _ was what I meant.”

Her mouth opened and shut as she floundered for something to say. “Mulder-”

She was interrupted as the door across from Mulder’s apartment opened and one of his seldom-seen neighbors exited. He glanced at the two, then quickly turned and walked down the hallway towards the elevator. They both caught his brief  _ you guys again _ face.

Both embarrassed, Mulder gestured for Scully to enter his apartment and she quickly obliged. Whatever happened, neither of them wanted it to play out for the entertainment of his neighbors.

Mulder shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He looked at her expectantly.

Scully hesitated. She knew, deep down, that she felt the same way. She had for a long time. But now? Of all times, he had to pick  _ now _ ? They were split up, kicked off the X-Files. The same X-Files that his  _ ex-girlfriend  _ was now working. And what about Diana? Scully felt a flare of anger at the thought of the woman. This was happening right on the heels of her coming into their lives and disrupting the rhythm they’d found. She knew he trusted Diana, but she didn’t know why. Why trust her on blind faith when he hadn’t seen the woman in years? When it was so obvious that she had come back into his life for the wrong reasons? He could say all the things he wanted to Scully now, but who was to say that he wouldn't turn right around and choose Diana over her, if given the chance?

She realized she was angry. More than scared at what his confession meant, she was angry that he’d done it. That he’d done it  _ now  _ when so much in their lives was up in the air.

Scully licked her lips, then pursed them, trying to fight back the tears of frustration that had built up in her eyes. “Mulder, I don’t think now is the time.” Her voice was deadly calm. The kind of calm that meant she was furious.

Mulder picked up on that, and he hesitated. “I...I know that, Scully,” He spoke as if talking to a predatory animal. Cautious. “But I-” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I realized I don’t know how much time I have left to do this. I mean, you in Antarctica and me in the Bermuda Triangle.” He gave a short, wry laugh. “Our lives are in danger more often than they’re not. And I  _ know  _ this is crappy timing, Scully, I know that. What with our jobs and the X-Files and D-” He stopped himself from saying Diana’s name, knowing how she might react. 

He looked away and sighed, then looked back, moving a bit closer to her. “And I know I’m putting you in a terrible position here. But you don’t have to- I’m not expecting you to say yes. I’ll drop this if you really want me to.” He moved even closer, and Scully wondered for a second if he would embrace her, or take her hand. But instead, he moved past her, behind her. She blinked at the door before turning to face him, and during that time she realized what he was doing. He was moving out of her path to the door. He was giving her an out. An escape.

When she turned to face him, he continued, his voice low. “One word from you, and I’ll shut up about it forever. But I have to ask you something,” He reached out as if to take her hand, then seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand back to his side. He searched her eyes instead, visibly swallowing as he mustered up the courage. “Is it me you're worried about having regrets? Or yourself?"

She blinked at that, stunned and slightly offended. Her jaw tensed. "Maybe I am worried, Mulder.” Her voice was carefully even. “Maybe I'm worried that you can say all these things to me but that doesn't mean we'd be able to make it work." Her voice rose with anger. "Maybe I don't want another major change, I mean, the X-Files is in danger, our jobs are in danger, and maybe I don't want to put our partnership - our  _ friendship  _ \- in danger too!" She let her breathing slow down a bit and stepped up close to him, her voice lower now and another emotion visible on her face besides anger. "Maybe you mean too much to me to jeopardize what we have now,” she whispered.

He stared down at her, searching her eyes. She broke eye contact to gaze off at nothing, briefly pressing her lips together thoughtfully.

"Maybe now isn't the best time." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She looked like she wasn't even speaking to him, like she was speaking to someone off in the distance, or to herself.

"Maybe there'll never  _ be  _ a best time," He countered, his voice a low murmur.

She looked back up at him and watched his lips purse slightly as he swallowed. She was so close to him now, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her. But he stayed put. Her eyes flicked up to meet his own, and something unspoken passed between them. She was afraid. Afraid to believe the way she always was. But rather than aliens or the paranormal, she was afraid to believe in them. And he couldn't blame her. But they were past the point of no return now and a decision had to be made. Whether it was a yes or no, or even a  _ later _ , she had to give him an answer.

Scully stared at him for what felt like hours, considering the possibilities, all the different outcomes. The consequences. It was entirely possible that it wouldn't work out between them. Probable, even. Who was to say that the platonic nature of their relationship was all that was keeping it afloat? And her life was already so entangled with Mulder's that this felt like it would be giving herself over to him completely; getting rid of any last sliver of a chance that some part of her life wouldn't involve him.

She'd never meant to cut herself off from her friends and stop dating. But at a certain point, she just couldn't justify trying anymore. She had no time for it and couldn't even discuss most cases over dinner, much less go in-depth on what her job entailed. And there was always the risk of getting someone else caught up in the dangers that she and Mulder constantly found themselves in. She didn't want another innocent person who was close to her to pay the price. Not like Melissa had. 

Plus, a large number of single men her age were looking to settle down and have kids, and that wasn't a conversation she wanted to have over and over with various men.

And to be honest, she couldn't imagine a life with anyone else. When she imagined her future, her mind no longer conjured up images of a white-bread husband and kids in a house outside the city like it used to long ago, before she’d even started med school. Instead, it was her and Mulder. The two of them by each other's sides, shrouded in shadows and investigating the unexplainable and unraveling conspiracies while simultaneously getting tangled further in them. Part of her was growing tired of the constant danger, sure, but the rest of her couldn't imagine doing anything else.

And she certainly couldn't imagine a life without Mulder by her side. Maybe this was the next logical leap for them. And a small part of her brain brought up the fact that maybe the risk would be worth it to know what it would feel like to  _ be  _ with Mulder in every sense of the word.

It was her move. And she had to make it.

She didn’t let herself think anymore, didn’t give herself time to hesitate. She reached up around the back of his neck and pulled him down as she rose up on her toes. They met in the middle.

It was sweet. And chaste. And short. They both pulled away and her hand moved from his neck to cup the side of his face.

Mulder hesitated, as if still not sure of her answer. But then he reached an arm around her waist, pulling her back in. She pulled his head down again at the same time and they crashed together, more forceful. As if that alone could make up for all the time they’d wasted  _ not  _ doing this. Both of her hands wove through his hair as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth and brushed against his. She swore she heard him moan.

Scully had never been a huge fan of making out. Even as she’d graduated from inexperienced teenage boys with too-wet mouths to seasoned men who knew how to use their tongues, in all her previous relationships she’d viewed it as a mere preamble for the good stuff. But this, oh,  _ this _ . It was better than anything before it. Whether it was because of their relationship or how long they’d waited or whatever cosmic theory Mulder might come up with, she didn’t know. And right now, she didn’t care.

She shed both their coats, but his hands moved on her hesitantly, and she realized it was still her move. With the slightest of grins against his lips, she turned them both and pushed him up against the wall, slipping herself into the space that had opened up between his legs. She let go of her inhibitions and her worries. Every impulse, everything she’d restrained herself from doing to him for years now was let loose. She pressed herself against him and abandoned his lips so hers could trail down his neck, grazing at various spots with fervor. He wasn’t due back at the office for a few days anyway, she thought to herself with a smile.

He gasped for breath and she heard him curse before strong arms suddenly lifted her up so they were eye-level. Despite the surprise, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up and bunching around her hips as she did so. It was her turn to be pressed against the wall as Mulder kissed her jawline.

“Jesus, Scully,” He murmured, and she let out a breathless chuckle that was cut off by a gasp as she felt his hot breath in her ear. He moved below it and down her neck, more careful about leaving marks than she had been. Unlike him, she had to be presentable for work tomorrow.

A short moan escaped her as he worked. She was throbbing now, and in a normal moment, she would be embarrassed by quickly she’d gotten wet. But she knew they were on equal footing. She was too high up on his waist to feel it, but she knew he was hard. Thinking quickly, she used the wall as leverage as she let her legs drop ever-so-slightly down his body. She kept herself off of him for a few moments, resisting the urge to press against him. As he finished up on her neck, though, she took his face in her hands and kissed him again - hard - as she finally ground down against his erection.

They both moaned then, and their kisses were broken up as they both had to repeatedly gasp for breath as they moved against each other. She wanted him here, now. She didn’t care if their first time was rough and up against the wall of his apartment. After spending so long moving at a snail’s pace, she wanted to go fast with him for once. They’d waited long enough, and there would be plenty of time for something slow and sweet in the future.

She shivered, the thought of being able to do this again making her more desperate. “Mulder,” She gasped against him as he trailed down her neck again. “Please.”

He grunted and pulled away, meeting her gaze. Their breathing started to even out. Why had he stopped? “Scully, I don’t know if-”

She groaned and let her head fall back to hit the wall. “Mulder, I swear to God, if you’re about to give me some shit about how we should wait, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

He chuckled. “No, uh, I was gonna say that I don’t know if we wanna stay up on this wall. I think the couch would be a better spot.”

“Oh.” Her voice was light with surprise. She shrugged. “That’s fine.” The wall was perfectly fine with her, but if he wanted the couch, then the couch would do. All she needed was  _ him _ . And why the hell didn’t he own a bed?

He grinned mischievously and pulled her off the wall. She had to tighten her legs’ grip around him in order to keep her balance, which led to her moving further against his erection. She went ahead and pulled off her shirt as he carried her, figuring there would be no use for it.

He dropped her on the couch and his own weight followed as he kneeled over her, pushing her skirt up even more and pulling her underwear down. She eyed the tent in his pants, wondering if he was going to get right to it, but instead, he lowered himself and settled his head between her legs.

His tongue moved against her slowly, at first. Spread wide across her, he licked slowly and deliberately once, twice, three times.

She felt like every muscle in her body was clenched, and she let out an impatient groan that he would tease her for later. “Muld-”

Before she could finish her protest, he moved again, faster now. Alternating between circling her clit and sucking on it.

She gasped. “Oh.” She bit her lip and let out a shaky breath. _“Oh.”_

He moved lower, his tongue dipping inside her and out, and she whimpered. She shoved her hand suddenly in his hair and pulled him off of her, her chest heaving. She was too close.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he licked his lips. What did she want? Had he done something wrong?

It took a couple of heaving breaths before she found her voice. _“C’mon, Mulder.”_ Her voice was low.

He got the message, his hands flying to his crotch. She didn’t watch him undress, instead leaning her head back and throwing her arm over her eyes as she tried to focus on her breathing. Her whole body felt like a tightly coiled spring. She needed release and she needed it soon.

She felt the couch shift and sensed his face hovering over hers. She removed her arm so she could look up at him.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

_ God, yes _ , She wanted to say, but she could only bring herself to nod, licking her lips.

“I, um, I don’t have any condoms.”

She shook her head, wishing he would just stop talking. “I don’t care,” She whispered breathlessly as she reached up and pulled him in for a kiss. She tasted herself on his lips and the memory of his mouth on her made her hips twitch upward involuntarily.  _ “Please _ , Mulder.”

In a more sensible moment, she would have explained how there was essentially no need for a condom. She couldn’t get pregnant, and she knew both of their medical histories well enough to no there was no danger of anything. But this wasn’t a sensible moment. Right now, all she could think about was how she needed him inside her.

He knew all the same information she did, of course. He’d probably mentioned condoms out of politeness or propriety.

Her head fell back against the couch as she felt him press up against her, moving in a way that spread her wetness over him. Just as she thought she'd die if he waited any longer, she felt him enter her. Six years of foreplay was more than enough prep, but it was still a pleasant surprise as he stretched her. He was bigger than she’d expected. Once he was all the way in, he stopped.

“Everything okay? Do you need a second?”

For a guy who had a penchant for being careless, he was being too damn considerate. “Mulder, just shut up and fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He was slow and rhythmic at first, making sure she was okay, then quickened his pace, his head ducked into her shoulder. She was close, she was so close and she knew what she needed to send her over the edge, but she waited, wanting to give him more time. Riding the edge felt like the best kind of agony.

It felt like ages before she heard him groan and mutter a _“fuck”_ and she knew he was getting there. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand between them and started working her clit, the combined sensations quickly sending her careening towards the edge.

She panted against him. “Mulder, I’m-  _ mm- Mulder- _ ”

He could only manage a grunt in response as he slammed into her, sending them both over the edge. They came undone together, clinging onto each other and gasping for breath. As they came down from their peak, he pulled out of her and leaned forward, his forehead resting heavily against hers. They stayed like that for a while, catching their breaths.

Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at what she could of his face. As if knowing she was looking at him, his eyes opened too.

They gazed at each other for a while, both coming to terms with what had just happened. Scully’s lips twitched up in a brief smile.

“I love you, too, by the way.”


	2. told you they'd be suspicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully try to navigate this new phase of their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mainly a collection of scenes to try to bridge the gap between the first chapter and the next one and is also a way for me to get my "let Mulder and Scully be happy" energy out before I start in on the plot of the show

After a few moments, Scully had gotten up to go to the bathroom. Feeling weird laying naked on his couch by himself, Mulder got up and started getting dressed, gathering her shirt and underwear for her while he was at it.

She came out of the bathroom and took her clothes with an awkward smile, slipping her underwear on and shooting him a look that said _we need to talk about this_ before throwing her shirt over her head. It was halfway on when a knock sounded from the door.

Startled, Scully stuffed her head through her shirt with less care than normal, mussing her hair up even more. They exchanged panicked looks

“Who is it?” He called out.

“It’s us!” Langly’s voice was easily recognizable.

“Uh, just a minute!” He grabbed their coats and started to hang them up, but she got his attention with a _psst_. She reached out, indicating she wanted her coat.

“What are you doing?” He whispered.

“I’m hiding in your room,” She whispered back, padding over quietly to where her heels laid. He couldn’t recall her removing them.

“Why?” He asked. “You’re here all the time, it’s not suspicious.”

“Mulder, you have marks on your neck!” She hissed, her cheeks tinged pink. “Ones that definitely weren’t there when we found you. If I’m here, they might put two and two together.”

“Scully-”

He was interrupted by another knock. “Mulder, you okay in there?” Frohike asked.

“Yeah,” He called out. “I’m just, uh, getting dressed.”

Scully opened his bedroom door again, catching a box as it started to fall. “Just try to make it quick,” She whispered, turning back to him. With a grimace, she reached up to smooth his hair down and wipe some lipstick from his mouth, having to stand on her tiptoes without heels on. Satisfied with her clean-up effort, she slipped into his room.

Once the door was shut behind her, Mulder tried to smooth down his own clothes and hair a bit before heading to the front door. The Gunmen pushed past him as soon as it was open.

“Mulder, you’ll never believe-”

“We just got the _craziest_ -”

“We’ve got something you need to-”

“Boys!” Mulder interrupted them as all three tried to talk at the same time. “Look, don’t make yourselves comfortable, I have to leave soon.”

The three exchanged looks. “Jeez, Mulder,” Frohike said. “You just got out of the hospital. You already have another case?”

“Uh, no, I, uh,” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying not to glance at his bedroom door.

Byers squinted at him. “What’s that on your neck?”

“Hm?” He drew his eyebrows up in his best look of innocence.

“Are those hickeys?” Langly tilted his head.

“Hickeys?” Mulder knitted his eyebrows together, then walked over to where his mirror sat on the wall and inspected his neck with a genuine look of surprise. Scully’s handiwork was nothing to sniff at. “Oh my God.”

“C’mon, Mulder,” Langly waved off Mulder’s reaction as if he didn’t believe him. “You got a girl over or something?”

“Yeah, right,” He gave him a dismissive look. “Like I found a girl to bring home within two hours of getting discharged.”

“Could’ve found someone _at_ the hospital,” Frohike muttered.

“Agent Scully drove you home, didn’t she?” Byers asked.

He stiffened. “Yeah, why?”

“She didn’t notice them?”

Mulder turned back to the mirror to inspect them again in order to try and disguise his sigh of relief. “No, I guess not. Didn’t I have these when you guys found me?”

They exchanged uncertain looks. “I don’t...I don’t remember you having them,” Byers said.

“It _was_ dark when we found you…” Frohike muttered.

“Did you get them from some 1930s babe?” Langly joked.

Seeing the opportunity, Mulder snapped his fingers and gave a slow nod as if he had just remembered. “That’s it. Yeah, this, uh, this girl pulled me into a closet at one point. I guess I forgot… You know, what with all the Nazi stuff happening right after.”

The three exchanged looks that were equal parts confused and impressed, seeming to believe him.

“Look, guys, I, uh,” Mulder gestured towards the door. “I told my mom I’d pay her a visit today, and I gotta go soon. Whatever this is, can it wait till tomorrow?”

All three shrugged. “I guess the queen’ll survive till then,” Langly said.

“The _queen_?” Mulder asked, then shook his head. He couldn’t let himself start this conversation. He started herding them towards the door. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’ll drop by tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay-”

“What time-”

“Bye-”

“Bye guys,” He smiled cheerfully and shut the door, then leaned against it with a sigh. He listened for the sound of them walking away before he stood up straight and headed towards the bedroom.

Scully didn’t look up from where she was delicately perched on a box, perusing a dusty _Playboy_. “Told you they’d be suspicious.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “I think I played it off well.”

She smirked up at him. “You mean your story about kissing some ‘babe’ from 1939? You’re lucky it was them who showed up and not Skinner. That wouldn’t have worked on anyone else.” She hopped up from the box and lightly tapped him with the _Playboy_ before dropping it and moving past him, through the door.

“But I _did_ kiss a babe from 1939, Scully,” He turned, watching her walk.

“Yeah?” She hung up her coat and dropped her shoes by the door. “Was she some tall, curvy blonde?” She smirked, her eyebrow cocked.

“Actually, she was a petite redhead who packed a punch.” He gestured towards his black eye.

It took her a second to register what he meant. “Wait, are you saying you kissed _me_ in your hallucination? And I punched you?”

“It wasn’t a hallucination, Scully, I’ve got the shiner to prove it.”

She ducked her chin, giving him her signature look of disbelief. “Mulder, you could have gotten that from the fall. Or from something else, since you were on that ship for who knows how long.”

“I know exactly how I got it, Scully. I kissed you and then you punched me.”

“Is that so?” She cocked her brow again and moved closer to him, a playfulness in her eyes that he wished he saw more. “And what kind of kiss was it?”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Are you asking for a demonstration?”

She shrugged with a short hum.

He gave a short chuckle, unable to believe they were having this conversation. “Well, uh, I believe I said something like ‘in case we never meet again.’” He moved closer to her.

“Mhm,” She nodded. “And then?”

With a grin, he grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss the same way he had with 1939 Scully. Unlike that Scully, though, this one was a bit more receptive, relaxing into it and pulling him closer. It was so different and so much better than the one on the boat. After a long time, they pulled apart, both panting a bit.

“Like that?” She asked.

“Well,” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “It was a bit different. You were more into it than she was.”

“You’ll notice I haven’t punched you.”

“Yet,” He grinned, and she smiled back. They stayed like that for a few moments, then she licked her lips and ducked her head a bit awkwardly.

“So now I guess we…” She gave a slight grimace. “Need to talk.”

“Well, first I need to pee,” He pointed out. “I didn’t get my chance to do that. But after that, yeah.” He turned and headed towards the bathroom. “You hungry?”

“I’ll order food.”

* * *

They ordered Chinese takeout and sat on opposite ends of his couch as they ate. He’d also grabbed two beers from his fridge. Not wanting to stay in her skirt, she’d borrowed a pair of his sweatpants and sat with her knees curled up to her chest. He had one leg on the coffee table.

It was strange in its normalcy. They’d spent countless nights sitting in these spots, eating takeout that ranged from bad to mediocre and drinking beers. In a lot of ways, it felt the same as those nights. They were still Mulder and Scully, after all. It was easy — surprisingly easy — to simply sit together and eat Chinese food on his couch despite the fact that they’d had sex on it about an hour ago.

That part seemed a bit hard for Scully to reconcile with, judging by the look on her face as she stirred her cashew chicken around in its container, refusing to meet Mulder’s gaze. Her brain was whirring at high speeds now that the immediate afterglow had worn off and she was back at full capacity to start panicking.

Worried that she would retract into herself, or that she would come to the conclusion that it had been a mistake, Mulder nudged her foot with his knee to get her attention. “Hey.”

She looked up at him, and his face told her he knew what she was doing. Her face told him she was embarrassed about being caught.

“You okay?”

A hesitant nod. “Yeah…” She trailed off, staring back down at her food absentmindedly. “Yeah, it’s just- It’s a lot to process.”

Mulder nodded, knowing what she meant. Though the line between professional and friendly had always been blurred between them, the line between either of those and romantic had been drawn definitively. So much so that it was nearly a wall. For that wall to come crumbling down so suddenly, and without preparation, was a lot for either of them to process. Everything was different, and yet nothing was different. They were still them, and this change hadn’t erased the friendship and intimacy they’d built over the years. If anything, it magnified it. And perhaps that was why it was hard to come to terms with. Things felt the same that weren’t, and things felt different that shouldn’t be.

Noticing how he was eyeing her — as if sizing up a suspect who might try to run — Scully nodded emphatically. “I’m fine, Mulder. I’m not- I don’t regret it.”

He nodded back with a shy smile, holding in a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it if she decided what they’d done was a mistake, if she wanted to write it off and act like it never happened despite how much it obviously meant to both of them.

They both agreed without needing to discuss it that this was something they should keep secret, at least for a while. Not their moms, not the Gunmen, and especially not Skinner.

“Nothing out in public,” She said around a mouthful of chicken, growing more and more relaxed as they talked. “Not on this side of town, at least.”

“Well, define ‘nothing,’ Scully, because we’re out a lot together as is.”

“Well, yeah,” She swallowed. “I’m not saying we can’t _be_ in public together.” She smirked. “I just mean, like...no PDA.” After he snorted, she added, “And no funny business at work. Especially since we’re not in the basement office anymore.”

He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “Are you saying you’d be into it if we _were_ still in the basement?”

“What I’m _saying_ is that we’re not isolated from other people anymore and we have to watch how we act at work.” She reached over and stole a piece of beef from his lo mein. “Strictly professional,” she said as she chewed.

“And what’s professional about stealing my food?”

“We’re not at work, are we?” She grinned.

He smiled back as he plucked another piece of beef from his container and dropped it in hers, trading it for a piece of her chicken. “I’m guessing that extends to cases, too.”

“Well, you know Bureau policy regarding two agents consorting in the same motel room,” she teased, taking a sip of her beer.

He chuckled, remembering that case from almost a year ago. More specifically, he remembered his half-out-of-it attempt at flirting by commenting about being naked in the same sleeping bag as a naked Scully. He remembered her protests as he asked her to sing, only to give in and gift him with his new favorite cover of “Joy to the World.” Missed notes and all.

“I was trying to fuck you that night, you know,” She muttered into her bottle, not looking at him.

His jaw fell open as he broke out of his reverie. “What? Really?”

“Mulder, I showed up at your room with wine and made a joke about Bureau policy even though we’ve been in each other’s rooms hundreds of times.” She gave him a look of incredulity.

He thought back, trying to remember that night. Was that really what happened? “Wh- I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, obviously,” She laughed. “You started ranting about” -she took a sip of her beer- “predators or something like that.”

“You’re serious.” It was a statement, but he meant it as a question. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

“Yeah, I was-” She cut off, smiling awkwardly. “I mean, I was still pretty fresh out of remission and feeling…” she shrugged with a sigh, staring down into her cashew chicken. “I don’t know. Spontaneous?” The question made it seem like she was hoping he could tell her. “I, uh, I thought the seminar would be a good opportunity to...try something, I guess. You know, being out of town without a real case to work on…” She trailed off again, looking a bit shy, then looked up at him with an enigmatic smirk. “My mistake for forgetting that X-Files seem to crop up wherever you go.”

At that moment, Mulder wished it hadn’t. He’d clung onto that X-File as an excuse to get out of the seminar since he loathed team-building and trust exercises. But if he’d known what the possibilities were…

“So that’s why you seemed suspiciously eager to attend that seminar,” he teased.

“I wouldn’t say _eager_ ,” she argued, looking slightly embarrassed. “Just not as... _un_ -eager as you were.”

“Well,” Feeling bold, Mulder leaned over to murmur in her ear. “If I’d known what your intentions were, I might have been a bit more eager.” The last word came out as a low rumble.

He held back a grin of triumph when he saw her close her eyes and suppress a shiver. He’d always wondered what it would be like to tease Scully, to try and get her hot and bothered. It was thrilling not to have to hold back those impulses anymore.

She regarded him with the same look in her eyes she’d had earlier, just before she’d shoved him against the wall. It was a look he had the feeling he would never get enough of. Her gaze traveled down to his lips, then flicked back up, and he knew that if he didn’t move away now, their food would get cold and their beers would get warm.

He sat back and they were both silent for a few moments as they tried to calm back down. After a while, Scully spoke again, changing the subject. “I’d suggest something about how we should split spending nights at each other’s places, but one of us doesn’t have a bed.”

He lifted his head up. “What happened to your bed?”

She scrunched her nose in fake irritation and kicked out at him playfully. He leaned over and plucked a cashew from her container and she swiped another piece of beef while he was close.

They spent the rest of the night in easy camaraderie the way they often did, stealing each others’ food and drinking beer on his couch. Mulder turned on a movie, but later on neither would be able to remember which movie it was. They were too busy talking and laughing. The long built-up tension between them that they had just popped was deflating, and rather than being awkward around each other, it was easier.

Eventually, they accidentally fell asleep on his couch. Mulder laid behind Scully, his arms wrapped tight around her as if afraid that she would fall off if he let go. In the morning, when their backs were sore and their muscles stiff, they would agree that it had been a bad idea. But for now, they were laying together, dozing off in the company of the only other person either one would want to be with right now as the credits rolled.

* * *

For two people who’d been close for over five years, there were a surprising amount of firsts that were still to be had. Not just their first _time_ , but other firsts. First night spent spooned on his couch. First night spent sleeping in her bed together. First meal cooked with the express intention of inviting him over, no needed preamble about a case in doing so.

First time making out on her couch while a movie played in the background. First morning waking up to see her bare back, decorated with freckles and the scars she’d accrued through the years. First evening spent curled up on his couch together, his arm draped over her shoulders and her head resting on his chest, as they contentedly watched reruns of a show. First time he let himself compliment her — _really_ compliment her — and watch as the unfamiliar sentiment sent a rush of pink to her cheeks. First time she let herself trace the lines of his torso the way she’d wanted to ever since the first time she saw him shirtless.

While the sex was nothing to sniff at, the increased opportunities and causes for intimacy felt more monumental. They’d never been shy about personal space — and in fact seemed to cross that line more often than they probably should have — but this new permission, the new allowance to explore each other both physically and emotionally, the ability to learn even more about each other than they already knew, felt almost unreal at times. 

Their first few fucks were just that — quick and rough fucks to release all the pent-up sexual energy that they’d built up together over the years. Neither of them minded this, both of the mindset that they’d get around to something more slow and intimate in due time.

When it happened, it wasn’t planned. Mulder — still not accustomed to not needing an excuse to see her — showed up on Scully’s doorstep one evening to ask her medical opinion on the autopsy reports of strange killings in Wisconsin. It was far from an X-File; even he could tell that they were ritualistic killings with no discrepancies in the autopsy reports. Scully took one look at the file, saw through his ruse, and asked him if he wanted to stay and watch a movie with her.

She opened a bottle of red wine and put on _The Exorcist_ (she’d recently rented it for about the fiftieth time, for some reason unable to justify actually purchasing it despite it being one of her favorite movies). They sat on her couch — at first on opposite ends, then eventually shifting so that she could curl into him. They drank and talked more than paid attention to the movie. Both of them had seen it multiple times, after all. 

Mulder asked about her love for the movie. She revealed that — other than the initial thematic appeal to her Catholic upbringing — she’d always had a certain fascination with horror movies. Not the ones full of senseless gore or nudity, of course, but the ones that had real suspense and were actually scary. Or the ones that were about something real on a thematic level.

“No kidding.” He hummed in slight disbelief. “I can’t believe I never knew that about you.” He’d always thought _The Exorcist_ was some sort of exception for her.

“No, I’ve always loved horror movies,” she insisted, taking a sip of her wine (second glass). “I even, um-” She giggled, and the rareness of the sound always made it seem like music to his ears. “It’s silly, but as a kid I would pride myself on the fact that I could ‘handle’ them better than my sister. It was a lie, of course,” she twisted her head from its position on his chest to look up at him. “I had my own nightmares.”

He chuckled, mildly wondering if that was the source for her compartmentalization abilities. “What was your first horror movie?”

“Mmm,” she hummed around her sip of wine. _“The Birds._ I don’t know if it’s technically horror, but watching Tippi Hedren get terrorized by those birds was pretty scary for a ten-year-old.”

“You were ten?”

She nodded, then nudged at his glass, indicating for him to catch up with her. “Yeah, my, uh- My dad and Bill were watching it one night and I joined in. Ahab didn’t think of it as scary, but…” She trailed off with a stifled giggle. “Well, I was ten. I didn’t let them _know_ I was scared, of course.” She looked up at him with a pseudo-serious expression. “I didn’t want Bill to make fun of me.”

He smiled down at her after taking a sip of his wine. “You still like the movie?”

“Mhm.” She nestled her head back into his chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

“Well, then I’ll have to show it to you one day.”

He smiled again — unseen by her — and felt a warmth spread through his chest the way it always did when she shared something about herself with him. Scully had such a tendency to be closed off, to adamantly refuse to let other people see her vulnerabilities, that she even held back from sharing seemingly trivial information. But in this past couple of weeks, she’d become more and more loose-lipped, sharing stories from her childhood and talking about things she liked that he couldn’t believe he didn’t know about at this point in their relationship. It was amazing seeing her walls lower just a bit more with each passing day.

“What other horror movies do you like?” He asked, desperate to know more about this side of her.

She hummed in thought. “Well, Hitchcock tends to lean more towards thriller than horror, but I like most of his movies. Uh, I actually liked _Nightmare On Elm Street_ . Not a big fan of _Friday the Thirteenth.”_ She shrugged. “Thought it was boring. Ummm… Oh! _Scream, Poltergeist, Halloween, Suspiria-”_

“You like _Suspiria?”_ He asked. “Isn’t that mostly gore?”

She shrugged again. “Yeah, but...I don’t know. I like the aesthetic of it.”

He shook his head in disbelief, taking another sip of wine. From what he remembered of that movie, the “aesthetic” was more of an assault on the senses. “You continue to surprise me.”

She giggled again, and he found himself determined to figure out how to always say the right thing that would cause her to do so. “I also liked _Alien,”_ she mumbled into her wine glass. 

He had to pull away in astonishment at that, regarding her with disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right?”

She stifled a laugh. “No, I did,” she insisted, her grin wide and uninhibited due to the alcohol.

“You’re telling me you’ll accept aliens in a movie but not in real life?”

“Mulder, that’s the _point.”_ She tried to give him her serious argument face, but she was still smiling. “It’s not real. It’s not supposed to be. Makes for a good horror scenario, though,” she added.

“Oh, and here I thought you were just in it for Sigourney Weaver.”

“Well, that was definitely a bonus.”

They drank and chatted and occasionally paid attention to the movie until the bottle was empty and the credits began. After turning the TV off, Scully turned to look up at him with an expression that was unfamiliar to him. It wasn’t lust and it wasn’t affection, but some weird, calm mixture of the two. It was just as compelling, though, and he found himself leaning down to her as if magnetized. They’d had this kind of kiss before. Slow, sweet, tender. It usually didn’t lead to anything, reserved for nights when they laid in bed, too tired from the day to commit to anything sexual but still wanting the intimacy that they both craved. 

This one was different, though, as her lips parted, inviting him in. Not in the insistent, eager way that she often did, but as a gentle invitation. He accepted it with just as much gentleness, letting himself take more time than usual to explore her. His hand went first to cup her jaw, then ran through her hair and down her neck, tracing her spine in its descent down her body. He felt her goosebumps where her shirt had risen up on her torso as her kiss deepened and her hand traced him in the other direction, starting at his knee and moving up his leg, bypassing his crotch and instead running under his shirt, tracing up his abs to his chest. She took a moment to let her nails gently scratch him before settling her hand on his shoulder, pulling him even closer to her.

The slow, tender movements stirred something in him in a different way than the passionate, insistent gropes and touches. He wasn’t sure how long they spent like this, simply making out and exploring each other with their hands until they finally, breathlessly pulled apart.

They stared at each other with mirrored expressions, catching their breath, until Scully finally stood up and offered a hand to him. He took it without hesitation, standing and following her to her bedroom where he knew he would take just as much time as he wanted to touch her, to trace her, to explore her and learn more about her body and what she liked than he already knew. And she would do the same with him until eventually, finally, they would come undone together like they always did. But it would be different this time, in a way that would be difficult for either of them to describe.

* * *

Dating in secret was surprisingly easy.

Since most people considered them attached at the hip, no one questioned why they spent time together. At work, nothing seemed different save for a nearly-imperceptible dissipation of a certain kind of tension between them, and no one who worked at the desks around them in the bullpen paid enough attention to notice that. They were actually glad that they weren’t working directly under Skinner for the time being; both were worried that he was too perceptive not to notice the change between them.

Scully’s mom visited her apartment once without notice while Mulder was there, and for a second they thought they had been caught. But she’d just assumed he was there for work and asked about their current case (they had to make something up).

The two had even managed to go on a date without realizing it. Mulder was complaining at work about none of the Gunmen being able to see a newly released movie with him, and Scully had shrugged and said she would see it with him, since she’d done so before. They even made plans to go to dinner beforehand.

They were halfway through their meal when Scully stopped and looked up with wide eyes. “Wait a minute. Are we on a date right now?”

He met her gaze and it took him a minute to really register what she’d said. He snorted and they both broke out in laughter.

“Oh my God,” She said after calming down, her hand instinctively covering her smile. “We’re so bad at this.”

“We’re just...out of practice,” He corrected. “And we have different standards than other people; it’s not like we haven’t done this exact thing without it being a date. And, I mean, I don’t know many other people who have sex _before_ the first date.”

She smiled. “I don’t know many people who say ‘I love you’ before having sex for the first time. Besides,” She took a sip of her wine. “I wouldn’t call this our _first_ date.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, intrigued. “What would you say our first date was, then?”

“In hindsight?” She propped her elbows on the table and folded her hands together, thinking. “Hmm. That time I followed you to the Smithsonian to talk to that scientist.”

He blinked. _That early?_ “You mean when you stood up Rick?”

“Rob.”

“Rob, right.” He nodded. “Can’t believe you were smitten with me that early,” He teased.

She sat up straight, an indignant look on her face. “I never said that.”

“‘First date’ implies that you were into me at that point.”

“No, I-” She folded her arms on the table. “I just meant that that was the first thing we did together that wasn’t about work.”

“It was kind of about work.”

“Fine then,” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “When do _you_ say our first date was?”

He gave a devilish grin. “That night in the cemetery. During our first case.”

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You mean when we were standing in the rain and the mud with those empty graves?” She sounded doubtful. “Not what I’d call romantic.”

“It was your laugh,” He said softly, and she realized he was looking at her with an openly infatuated smile that made her face burn. “The way you laughed so freely after opening yourself up to extreme possibilities. I don’t think I’ve really seen you laugh like that since then.”

She thought about that night. Everything had been so new, so ludicrous. As the years had passed, there had been less and less to laugh about regarding their jobs.

She drew in a self-conscious breath, still not used to him complimenting her so openly and sincerely. “I wouldn’t call laughing a date.” She took a sip of her wine.

“I was going off _my_ criteria.”

“Which is?”

“I already told you. ‘First date’ implies that I was smitten with you by that point.”

She blinked, trying to suppress a shy smile. _That early?_ She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised that the part where I showed up at your room in nothing but a robe and underwear wasn’t your pick,” She joked, taking a bite of her salmon.

“Well…” He tilted his head, recalling it. “That _was_ a pretty good moment. There’s a reason I sat on the floor at the foot of the bed.” He smirked as if trying to tease her.

She licked her lips and raised one eyebrow, giving him a knowing look.

His smile faded with realization. “Wait a minute. Were you trying to fuck me _then_ , too?”

She refused to meet his gaze as a wide grin slowly split her face. “I mean…”

“Dana Katherine Scully,” He shook his head with a slight smile. “You are unbelievable. You lied to me.”

She took a sip of her wine, still not looking at him. “No, listen. I _was_ actually scared about the mosquito bites. But all I’m saying is that it would have been easy for me to put my clothes back on before going to your room and just lift my shirt for you to inspect it.”

“And what if they had actually been the same marks that those kids had?”

She took another sip. “Well, then I would have had bigger problems.”

“I can’t believe this.” He shook his head and looked off into the distance thoughtfully. “I had to try my damndest to keep a respectful distance from you that night.”

“Well, that was your decision.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been wearing the Hanes briefs, I would have made a different decision.”

“I couldn’t be _too_ obvious, Mulder.”

“Well, if you had, maybe you would’ve gotten laid.”

“I did get laid,” She said, draining the last of her wine. “It was just about six years too late, is the thing.”

He snorted as the waiter brought by the check — singular. Throughout their partnership, restaurant employees had constantly assumed they were dining together in a single-check sort of manner. Early on, they had agreed to take turns paying whenever this happened. It was easier and faster than asking the waiter to fix it. 

“Any other missed opportunities I had that you wanna tell me about?” He asked.

She ate her last bite of salmon and chewed thoughtfully. “Well...it wasn’t _you_ , technically, but I was heavily considering it before I found out it was Eddie van Blundht that one time.”

“That’s it, Scully, you’re paying.”

“Well, yeah, it’s my turn.” She grabbed the check, giggling. She was a little wine-tipsy after two glasses. 

The movie was nothing to write home about, but the dark theater provided them an opportunity to be more intimate in a public setting. Their hands were intertwined the whole time and Scully’s head rested on his shoulder throughout most of the movie. At one point, he thought she’d fallen asleep and leaned forward to check, only to see her meet his gaze questioningly.

It was their version of a honeymoon phase. They were both happier than they’d been in a while and could barely keep their hands off of each other when they were in private (they had a lot of catching up to do, after all). Mulder started staying over at her apartment so much that she had to clear out more room in her closet for him (she’d already had a few of his clothes in there for emergency situations). They also spent the occasional night at his apartment, despite the fact that they always woke up sore and regretful after spooning in an immovable position on his couch for six to eight hours. Scully always said she’d never do it again, but then she always did.

“Mulder, how the hell have you slept on this thing for years?” She asked one morning, sitting up and cracking her neck.

“Well, it’s not as bad when someone else isn’t taking up half the space.” He grinned cheekily up at her, still laying down.

She gave him a look. “Oh, you mean so you can go-” she mimicked the way he crossed his arms over his chest like a dead person in a coffin, even closing her eyes to feign sleep.

He laughed, nudging her with his knee.

“I can’t imagine that’s much better for your back,” She said as she dropped her arms. “You need a _bed_ , Mulder. Or else your fish are going to suffer from your lack of presence.”

“Oh, well in that case.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her neck with his nose. “I wouldn’t want the mollies to suffer.”

She hummed a laugh that quickly turned to a short moan as his lips traveled her neck with intent. After a few moments, she turned around and pushed him back down on the couch. They gave the mollies a show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! From here on in, we're gonna be delving into my reinterpretation of the show's plot within this AU, starting with the Dreamland saga. Let me know what you think!


	3. you're not mulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dreamland time baby!! I didn’t mean to dedicate a whole chapter to these two episodes (esp since they end up, like, erased from everyone’s memories) but they were just so rife with fun opportunities that I couldn’t help it ahdksfld

“Is _this_ supposed to be a date?” Scully cocked a brow at the dusty Nevada road they were driving down. “You know Kersh will have our asses if he finds out about this.”

“Depends on if you want this to be a date,” he ignored the second half of what she’d said. They passed a mile marker. “Two more miles to go.”

“I’m all a-tingle,” She deadpanned.

She asked about his supposed “source,” who he claimed worked at Area 51, and she found herself thinking about his constant search for proof. For truth. Before they had embarked on this new phase of their relationship, it had started to drain her. But everything had a slightly new feeling to it now that they were together. Like when you finally clean off an old pair of earrings or shine an old pair of shoes and realize how much potential they’d had. To be honest, she was a bit excited to be out on the road with Mulder again like this, though she refused to let him know that. They hadn’t worked anything resembling an X-File in a while.

Still, her mind wandered to thoughts about the people who lived near here. Raising families and buying homes while they drove on, endlessly.

_Will that ever be us?_

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She realized she’d spoken out loud. “I mean, uh- There are people who live around here. People who live normal lives. Nine-to-five jobs and a cookie-cutter house with a white picket fence and-” she stopped herself from mentioning kids, not wanting to re-open that wound for a casual conversation.

He glanced over at her. “Are you saying you _want_ a nine-to-five job and a cookie-cutter-”

“No, no,” She cut him off, shaking her head. She couldn’t imagine a life in suburbia. “I just mean, like...settling down,” she sighed. “Something resembling a normal life.”

“Well, this _is_ a normal life,” He argued. Seeing her look, he continued. “Normal for us, at least.”

“That’s true,” She said. They didn’t really have lives that lent to normalcy.

“But if you want something normal, then we can try something normal,” He said, reaching over and taking her hand in his, resting them on the center console. “What is it you want? The white picket fence? I can get one for my apartment, but I don’t know where I’ll put it.”

She smiled, her mind slightly more at ease. He’d made a joke, but she knew his sentiment was real. It had always been clear that that sort of life didn’t quite fit him, but he’d be willing to try it. For her.

The sound of tires squealing and the blinding headlights streaming through the car disrupted their moment, and they pulled their hands apart.

“Mulder.”

“I don’t know if we’re going to meet that crackpot after all.”

* * *

“Come on, Mulder, let’s go,” She tugged on his sleeve, shooting a glare at the man who had confronted them, who had an odd look on his face.

Mulder was uncharacteristically quiet as they drove away, and Scully repeatedly glanced over at him. She didn’t say anything, assuming that he was just stewing about not being able to meet his contact.

When they pulled up to the gas station, she decided to try to pull him out of his funk. “Are you okay, Mulder?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you haven’t said anything since we left those men on the highway. Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine. Gas cap’s on your side.”

She frowned. He always got the gas. He’d even once made a joke about chivalry while she argued that pumping gas was hardly chivalrous. “Okay...if you don’t wanna talk about it.” She got out and started pumping the gas. 

Still in the car, Mulder turned the radio on, fiddling with the dial. Her phone rang, slightly muffled by the noise and the confines of the car.

“Mulder?” She called through the window. He didn’t hear her. “Mulder.” She repeated.

No response. Was he ignoring her? Maybe he just couldn’t hear her. She closed her eyes with a sigh of frustration, then left the pump to open the door and get her phone. The music blasted out of the car at deafening levels, but she got in anyway.

“Hello?” She asked, but couldn’t hear over the radio. Her lips pursed, she reached over and turned it down. “Hello?” No response. Whoever was on the other end had hung up. “Ugh.” She hung up and got back out of the car.

“Oh, Dana?” Mulder leaned over. “Want to pick me up a pack of Morleys please?”

 _Dana?_ “Since when do you smoke?” She eyed him with doubt. Was this some sort of joke?

He heaved a sigh. “Well, you’re not gonna be a Nazi about it, are you?”

The question genuinely stunned her and she didn’t know how to respond. Slamming the door shut, she went inside, lost in her thoughts. 

Mulder didn’t smoke. He’d never smoked. In fact, they’d had multiple conversations where they’d talked about how neither one could even stand the smell of cigarettes after all their dealings with the Cancer Man. So why did he request a pack? He hadn’t seemed any more stressed than usual or anything, so she didn’t understand what could be driving him to smoke.

She recalled their conversation in the car. Was that it? Had her questions about normalcy set him off? He’d seemed receptive enough to it at the time. Maybe it was actually bothering him and he was lashing out in some weird way, trying to push her away before she could ask about it again.

She pursed her lips, feeling a flash of anger. She put back the bag of sunflower seeds she’d grabbed on instinct and stalked out without getting the cigarettes. If he wanted to be a child and not talk about what was wrong, so be it. But she wasn’t going to encourage him. When she got back in the car, Mulder looked over at her expectantly.

“They were out,” She said shortly as she buckled in.

“Of Morleys?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes forward. She was very clearly mad at him and he knew her well enough to pick up on that, but for some reason, he didn’t seem to. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

They drove for a while before she turned to him. “Mulder, if I said something that upset you-”

“God, this again?” He looked at her as if disgusted. “I told you I’m fine, Dana. Jeez, you’re just like my wife.”

 _“_ Excuse me?”

A panicked look crossed his face. “ _A_ wife,” He corrected. “You’re like _a_ wife.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but she had no words. So that _was_ what this was about. One discussion about settling down and he was pushing her away. She hadn’t even said anything about getting married. So much for no regrets.

Scully had half a mind to yell at him, to argue with him. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t want him to know just how hurt she was, so she sat back in her seat and sulked, staring silently out of her window for the rest of the drive.

* * *

 _“‘I’d give you his name if I had it?’”_ Scully repeated Mulder’s words back to him in an incredulous tone. Their meeting hadn’t gone at all like she’d expected it to. “Whatever happened to protecting our contacts? Protecting our work?”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “He asked. Hang on a second.”

She watched in disbelief as he went over to chat up Kersh’s assistant. Right in front of her. Scully stood up to her full height in indignation, her lips pressed in a thin line. She’d hoped that whatever streak of pettiness Mulder had displayed last night would be gone by now so that they could have a proper discussion about it, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

He noticed her anger this time as he got back to her. “What?”

 _“What_ is going on with you?” She couldn’t help but ask, despite not wanting to discuss this at work.

Mulder scoffed. “Will you please stop trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Mulder, you are acting _bizarre!”_ She hissed.

He turned and looked back at Kersh’s assistant through the office windows, then looked back at her with a gloating smile. “Jealous?” He asked, then slapped her ass before walking off.

Scully’s jaw dropped in shock. Her face burned a bright red with the amount of embarrassment and anger she felt. Her hands curled into fists; she was absolutely fuming now, and she’d had it with him. Once they were off work, she was going to confront him. She might even need her gun.

She angrily chewed her lip as she sat at her desk, occasionally looking up to glare at Mulder as he played some golfing game on his computer. It was strange that he was playing a game at work, much less a golf game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that right now.

Her phone rang. “Scully,” She answered.

“Oh thank goodness. Scully, it’s me.”

She frowned. The phrase was a familiar one; she’d heard it from Mulder countless times. But Mulder was right there. And this voice didn’t sound familiar.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s me, Mulder.”

“Mulder?” From his desk, Mulder waved dismissively, clearly thinking she was talking to him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner," the voice continued. "Look, something really weird happened last night when that UFO passed over us.”

“UFO?” Her frown deepened. That was certainly a very Mulder thing to say, but there hadn’t been a UFO last night. And again, Mulder was _right there_.

“You don’t remember?” He asked. “You don’t remember. Okay, the man that you’re with, that’s not me. His name is Morris Fletcher. He’s an Area 51 employee.”

“Morris Fletcher,” She repeated as she wrote the name down. A thought crossed her mind. Was this Mulder’s contact? But why would he call _her?_ And why would he claim to be Mulder? She considered getting Mulder’s attention so he could listen in on the call and let her know, but she decided against it. If he could be petty, so could she.

“That’s right.” The man said. “Everyone else seems to think that I’m him, but I’m not. I’m me. I’m Mulder.”

“Look,” She sighed. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but-”

“It’s not a game, Scully, I can prove it. I-” He stopped and was silent for a moment. “Well, I don’t know if this is a secure line. I don’t want to say anything too risky. Are you telling me that Mor- that _Mulder_ hasn’t been acting weird?”

She opened her mouth to defend him on instinct but realized she didn’t have any defense. He _had_ been acting weird. “Well, he-” She stammered, then turned in her chair to prevent Mulder from hearing her. “He, uh, he asked for cigarettes. And...flirted with some woman,” She added under her breath, unable to believe she was confiding in this random man.

 _“Flirted?”_ The man sounded disgusted. “See, Scully? I would never do that, you know that. First of all, I wouldn’t want to, especially not now. And second of all, I know you’d probably murder me for that.”

She hesitated. He was right, and it seemed like he was alluding to her and Mulder’s relationship with his comments. But it was just too crazy to believe. “I don’t know…”

The man sighed. “Scully, I love you, but things would be a lot easier if you just believed me sometimes. Look, just get out here as soon as you can, and I’ll prove it to you. I promise.”

 _I love you?_ “W- How will I get in touch with you?”

“You won’t. I’ll get in touch with you.” He hung up.

Scully hung up too, staring at the name she’d written down. Morris Fletcher. She’d look him up and have that call traced.

Mulder turned back to her. “Who was that?”

She shot him a glare. “None of your business.”

“Jeez, lady.” Mulder reclined back in his chair. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Scully shot up from her seat, fully intending to lash out at him, but stopped when a few of their desk neighbors looked up at her in surprise. She remembered where she was. Smoothing down her skirt, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, needing to cool off.

* * *

At the sight of Kersh’s assistant leaving Mulder’s apartment (giving Scully a catty look, to boot), she’d decided it was time to commit murder. She could excuse some of his behavior as weird immature lashing out because he was uncomfortable, but this was taking it way too far. She rapped at his door.

“Just can’t get enough, can you?” His voice sounded from inside.

She fumed at his audacity. “It’s me.”

The door opened and Mulder stood just inside, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and his shirt half off. He looked completely unfazed by her anger. “Oh, hey, Dana.”

Dana again. Since when was he calling her Dana? That was low-priority compared to everything else, though. She burst into his apartment and whirled around to face him as he shut the door.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was forceful, and she was grateful it wasn’t wavering.

He looked confused by her tone. “Oh, you know, just a little lunch break. What’s up?”

“A lunch break?” She whispered, so mad she couldn’t even speak. _“A lunch break?”_ She repeated, louder. “You have the gall to tout some woman around right in front of me and then play it off as a _lunch break?_ ” 

He raised his arms in surrender. “Jeez, Dana, I didn’t know I owed you anything.”

 _“Owe me anything,”_ She mouthed the words in anger, then took a deep breath, trying to calm down so she didn’t _actually_ murder him. “Mulder, if you- If you wanna break up, this is _far_ from-”

“Break up?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oho! _That’s_ what this is about?”

“Excuse me?” She asked. What else would this be about?

He ignored her, though, his hand going to his chin in amazement. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been wasting my time with that bitch when you and I were an item this whole time?”

Scully stepped backwards, looking and feeling like she’d just been slapped. She’d never heard Mulder call anyone a bitch before. And why was he acting so surprised that they were together? Was this some sort of ploy? Some sick game? A way to act like they’d never been together?

 _It’s not Mulder_ , a small voice in the back of her mind said. She instinctively brushed it off, but then thought back to that phone call. That man — Morris Fletcher — had almost made a convincing argument. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t encountered Mulder imposters before. She recalled the shape-shifting man who’d showed up at her motel room to try and kill her years ago. And Eddie van Blundht.

“Well, Dana,” Mulder started speaking again. “I’m _real_ sorry.” (he didn’t sound sorry at all) “I think I just, uh, haven’t been myself. Whaddaya say we start over?” He moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me,” She stepped back from his grip, her anger flaring up again. Mulder or not, she was still mad. And hurt. And a half-assed apology like that certainly wasn’t going to fix anything. “We’re done.” She spat, then turned and stormed out of his apartment.

“Done?” He called after her. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer.

* * *

Scully blinked in surprise as Morris Fletcher’s wife slapped him and called him a son of a bitch. Not a good day for relationships, huh?

Still a bit stunned, she tried to get her bearings. “I’m sorry, um, Morris Fletcher?”

Fletcher — who looked strangely excited to see her — closed the door and guided her away from it. “Scully, it’s me,” He spoke quietly. “It’s Mulder.”

“Uh,” She shrugged off his hand and stepped back. Why was this man so close to her? “You’re the man from the other night? From Area 51?”

He opened his mouth to answer but was distracted by his wife shouting “Liar!” from the house.

“You phoned me,” Scully continued. “What is this all about?”

Fletcher looked frustrated. “I'm Mulder. I'm really Mulder. I switched bodies, places, identities with this man, Morris Fletcher. The man that you think is Mulder, but he's not.” He added, then seemed to notice his reflection in the window of the car. “Of course you don't believe me. Why was I expecting anything different?” He said, mostly to himself. 

She just looked up at him, wondering if this man was crazy. If she was honest, part of her wished he was right, if not to have some reasoning for Mulder’s recent behavior.

After a beat, he turned to her. “Your full name is Dana Katherine Scully. Your badge number is…” He thought for a moment. “Hell! I don't know your badge number. Your mother's name is Margaret, your brother's name is Bill. He's in the Navy and he hates me.”

 _He does hate Mulder_ , She thought to herself. But anyone could know that. Her brother would probably buy a billboard if he could.

He continued. “Lately, for lunch, you've been having this six-ounce cup of yogurt — plain yogurt — into which you stir bee pollen because you're on a bee pollen kick, even though I tell you you're a scientist and you should know better.”

She blinked at that. _How did he know that?_ She didn’t even register his wife shouting something else.

“Look…” She floundered for something to say, some reasoning. It was just too crazy to believe. “Any of that information could have been gathered by anyone.” They often ate lunch in the bullpen, now. Tons of people saw her do that.

“Even the bee pollen thing?” He asked, incredulous. “That is so you, that is so Scully. Well, it’s good to know you haven’t changed.” He was nearly ranting now. “That’s somewhat comforting.”

Scully opened her mouth to retaliate. Whatever was going on, it was uncomfortable hearing some strange man act like he knew her.

He took her by the shoulder and guided her even further from the house before she could speak, though. “Look, what about this?” His voice was nearly a whisper, as if he was afraid someone would hear. “We’re together. Only you and I know about that.”

She stiffened. Shrugged off his hand again. “Mr. Fletcher, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but lots of people tend to assume that my partner and I are romantically involved. I can assure you that’s not-”

“Oh, c’mon, cut the crap, Scully!” His voice rose in frustration. He gestured as if searching for something to say. “I can- I can get more specific!”

“I don’t-”

“I told you I loved you in the hospital after you saved me from that ghost ship,” He charged ahead without letting her stop him.

That got her attention. At least enough for her to listen.

“You didn’t wanna believe me,” He continued, slightly calmer now. “You thought it was the drugs. You drove me home after I was discharged and we had an argument about it, and then we-” He stopped and glanced behind himself, as if worried someone would hear. When he spoke again, it was nearly a whisper. “We slept together. For the first time.”

Her heart pounded with panic. How could he know all of this? “Mr. Fletcher-”

“Afterwards, we ate Chinese food and talked about how we shouldn’t tell anyone. You spent the night and woke up so sore from my couch that you said you’d never do that again, but you have.”

She was about to argue, but paused. He was missing something. “Something happened between those things.”

He smiled. “The Gunmen dropped by. You hid in my room like a teenage girl whose boyfriend’s mom just came home.”

She knew her face was flushed now. It was all too accurate. She shook her head. “Mulder and I have both been bugged before. Spied on. How do I know that’s not how you learned all of this?” It made her deeply uncomfortable to think of someone spying on her and Mulder during such intimate moments, but it was more likely than body swapping.

Fletcher sighed in exasperation. “You really do make me work for everything, don’t you, Scully?” He ran a hand through his hair — the same way Mulder did, she realized — then looked back down at her. “Okay. Ask me anything.”

She licked her lips in thought, trying to think of a good question. “What was our first date?”

He smirked. “Depends who you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The cemetery,” He said with a small smile. “You laughed.”

Her throat tightened. Part of her wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that all of the craziness between her and Mulder today was because it _wasn’t_ Mulder. But the investigative part of her brain pointed out that they’d had that conversation in a public place. Someone could have overheard. She searched for a memory, something she could ask him about where she knew they were totally and completely alone.

 _Try any of that Tailhook crap on me, Scully, I’ll kick your ass_ , Mulder’s voice sounded in her head.

She looked up at Fletcher. “What did I sing to you?” No further explanation.

He frowned for a second, as if confused by the question. Then recognition crossed his face and he smiled. “Joy to the World.”

Her lips parted in shock and she leaned forward, searching his face as if half-expecting it to open like some sort of skin suit, revealing someone else. “Mulder?” She whispered, her voice thick with disbelief.

“Yeah,” He smiled, breathless with relief and nodding emphatically. “It’s me, Scully.”

Her gaze wandered, her mouth agape. “I don’t- _How?”_

“Something flew over us the other night,” He explained. “A UFO or something. No one else seems to remember it but me. And Morris, I’m assuming. I don’t know how it did it, but all of a sudden I was watching you get in the car with Morris, only you thought he was me.”

She didn’t seem to be fully paying attention to him, though, still reeling at this discovery. After a moment, she looked away in thought. “I was _so_ mad at him,” She murmured quietly, as if to herself.

“Morris?” He asked. “What did he do?”

“He-” She ducked her chin in embarrassment. “I caught him...fooling around with Kersh’s assistant,” She muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

“He _what?”_ His eyebrows shot up in surprise, which quickly turned to anger.

“I don’t- I don’t know if they actually _slept_ together-”

“Oh my God,” He buried his face in his hands.

“But I saw her leaving his — _your_ — apartment,” She said, looking thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. “She wasn’t fully dressed.”

Fletcher — _Mulder,_ she reminded herself — lifted his head up to look at her. “Scully, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t do that, you know that.” He looked genuinely contrite, knowing how she must have felt witnessing that.

She nodded thoughtfully, feeling relieved. _That_ was more like Mulder. After a moment, she spoke. “So...what do we do now? I mean, how do we fix…” She gestured to all of him. “This?”

“Unfortunately, I’m still looking into that,” He said. “I’m gonna go back to ‘work’ and try to get ahold of something — a piece of evidence.” He leaned a bit closer. “Can you meet me tonight? I’ll need you to take it to the Gunmen and have it analyzed.”

She hesitated, not exactly excited for yet another four-hour flight back to Washington (and probably another flight back here). She thought for a moment. “Is that going to help us change you back?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted. “But it’s at least a starting point. Can you meet me, Scully?”

“Hold on, Mulder,” She lifted a hand as if to stop him. It would take both parties to switch bodies back. “We have to think about this. Even if we find a way to fix this, there’s no guarantee that we can do it without Fletcher’s cooperation. He might even know how to do it. But he definitely doesn’t seem interested in giving up your life anytime soon.”

“What are you saying?”

She chewed her lip. “I’m saying that...as much as it’ll probably kill me, I’m gonna have to gain his trust. Go along with his charade. I might be able to get some information from him in case we don’t find anything with this ‘evidence.’”

He smirked, and she thought she could see a ghost of Mulder’s smirk on that ugly face. “You’re not gonna kiss him, are you?”

Her face scrunched up with disgust, which was all the answer he needed. “Where do you need me to meet you?” She asked.

“I’ll get in touch with you.”

* * *

Mulder — _Fletcher_ — had followed her. That was the only explanation. How else would he have known that she went back to Nevada? Or that she’d talked to “Fletcher?”

She’d been backed into a corner. Kersh had threatened her job, and there was no knowing how much she could help Mulder if she got fired. Plus, she needed to gain Fletcher’s trust.

Mulder approached her in the gas station, a paper bag in his hands. “Scully, I got it. I got the proof.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him, instead only looking up at him with guilt. He registered it a split second too late as multiple vehicles pulled up, nearly blinding him with their lights.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before turning away, unable to watch as the soldiers barged in and took the bag from him before cuffing him.

“Scully?” His voice was more urgent now.

She looked back at him, her expression saying what she couldn’t out loud. _I had to, Mulder. I’m so sorry._

She thought she saw understanding register in his face, but they were both distracted as Fletcher walked in, flanked by two other men. “Damn it, Morris,” One of them said to Mulder.

Mulder ignored him, though, completely losing it at the sight of Fletcher in his own body. “You! You son of a bitch!” He fought against the soldiers who were holding him. “You orchestrated this whole thing!” He continued struggling — fruitlessly — as the soldiers dragged him out of the store. “You bastard! Tell them the truth! He’s not me, Scully! Would I do this?”

At the sound of her name, she had to turn away again, pressing her lips together to fight the tears in her eyes. Did he think she didn’t believe him? That she’d willingly helped Fletcher do this? 

_I didn’t have a choice_. She kept repeating that in her head as if it could shake away the feeling that she’d just betrayed her best friend. Her partner. The person who trusted her more than anyone else in the world.

She would fix this. She had to.

After a few moments, she felt Fletcher’s hand on her shoulder and had to resist the urge to shrug it off.

“You hate me now, right?” He asked. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Dana, I’m sorry I narced on you to Kersh, but I was afraid you’d lose your job. I mean, when you stomped out of my apartment and I found out you were going to Nevada, I was worried you were going to do something crazy.”

She bit back a million retorts that built up in her mind, instead setting her jaw and turning to face him with a carefully even expression. “You did the right thing, Mulder.”

He blinked in surprise. “I did?”

She gave a tight smile. “I’ve been telling you for years you should play more by the book, haven’t I?”

He smiled with relief, unable to read her body language the way the real Mulder could. “Hey, it’s the new me.”

* * *

Two weeks suspension without pay. And on top of that, she couldn’t believe she’d agreed to dinner with Fletcher. Or that he’d asked. Was it really that easy to win him over after she’d nearly ripped his head off? A simple “you were right” and he thought everything was okay? She’d been even more stunned when he suggested a home-cooked meal. As far as she was aware, Mulder wasn’t exactly a master chef. In fact, she wasn’t sure what he _could_ cook. Everything he did further squashed any doubts she had that Mulder — the _real_ Mulder — had been telling the truth.

Still, she had to get Fletcher to cooperate. And she had a plan. She double-checked that she had her cuffs and gun before knocking on the door.

The sight of Mulder wearing an apron that said “something smells good” would normally be enough to make her bust out laughing, but unfortunately there was little to be found funny about this situation.

“Perfect timing,” Fletcher said. “Welcome.”

It wasn’t until he moved aside that she noticed how clean the apartment was. “Wow.” Her eyebrows shot up, genuinely impressed. A small part of her noted what a shame it was that it took some weird body-switching scenario for Mulder’s apartment to be cleaned. She was so stunned that she barely even noticed Fletcher taking her coat.

“You like, huh?” He asked a little too close to her ear. “Yeah, I thought it was time I stopped living like a frat boy.” He shrugged. “Come see the rest of the place.” Taking her hand, he led her through the living room and into the bedroom.

If the sight of Mulder’s clean apartment stunned her, then the sight of his bedroom — completely spotless and now including a _bed_ — nearly overwhelmed her. Her jaw dropped at the sight. She was surprised to find a part of her actually missed the boxes and dusty _Playboys_. It may have been annoying, but at least it had been Mulder.

“Come. Sit.” Fletcher excitedly patted the bed.

“Um, no,” She started to back out, worried he was trying to trap her into something. There was a difference between going along with his act and going so far as to sleep with him. 

“Seriously, just check it out.” He reached out and pulled her by the wrist and sat her down on the bed. It moved under her way more than a normal mattress should. 

_Oh, God. A waterbed?_ she thought, trying to hide her disgust. He sat down beside her and the movement of the bed knocked her off balance, falling back onto it. Her jaw dropped again as she saw her own reflection staring down at her, and her face flushed at the thought of being able to see herself during... _certain_ activities.

Fletcher propped himself up on his elbow. “D’ya hate it?” He asked, grinning devilishly.

She hesitated, trying to calm herself. “No, I don’t hate it,” she said, and unfortunately it wasn’t a complete lie. As awful as a waterbed was and as _horrifying_ as an above-bed mirror was, at least Mulder had a bed now. Once this was all over, she might be able to actually stay the night here without stiff muscles.

His grin widened. “Well, alright then. Don’t go away.” The bed shifted nauseatingly as he got up and left the room. When he came back with champagne and accompanying flutes, Scully couldn’t stop her eyebrows from shooting upwards. Big plans.

He handed her a flute and she stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, deciding it was time for one last test. She was already certain that this man wasn’t Mulder, but as a scientist she needed all the evidence she could gather.

“Mulder,” She kept her voice light. “Remember that time we were lost in the woods down in Florida? And you got injured?”

He frowned, looking a bit panicked. “Uhh, vaguely. Why?”

“I just-” She shook her head with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t seem to remember the name of the song that I sang to you. Do you remember? The tune’s been stuck in my head all day,” She added, then started humming the chords to “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown” to throw him off.

“Oh, that’s the, um-” Fletcher snapped his fingers a couple times, trying to remember. “The Jim Croce song. Leroy Brown.”

“Thaaat’s right,” She said as if she’d just remembered. “And that was what I sang to you?”

“Of course,” He turned his attention back to the champagne bottle. “I vividly remember that part.” He winked.

“Mhm,” She nodded, her jaw tight. She licked her lips and then turned to him. “Do you know what would really be fun?”

“What?”

She pulled out her handcuffs and dangled them in front of him with a cocked eyebrow. Fletcher looked like he’d nearly come on the spot. “Oh, yeah. Me first?”

“You first,” She smirked.

Excited, he couldn’t seem to take the cuffs from her fast enough. While he cuffed himself to the bed, she stood up and pulled out her gun. “Now what?” He asked, turning back, but flinched in surprise when he saw her gun aimed at him.

“You’re not Mulder.”

The panicked look on his face was nearly comical. “What?” The champagne cork popped at that moment, and Scully could already imagine laughing about that with the real Mulder in the future. “Baby-”

“‘Baby’ me and you’ll be peeing through a catheter,” She said, lowering the aim of her gun. “Your name is Morris Fletcher. It was Mulder who was arrested in the desert. Now, how do we get things back to normal?”

* * *

Fletcher had turned out to be completely useless and somehow knew nothing, but luckily Mulder’s source called while Scully was interrogating him. And after two more flights to Nevada and back — along with a nearly unsuccessful bar adventure — they arrived at the Lone Gunmens’ lair, flight recorder in tow.

Scully pressed on the buzzer. “Open up,” She called out. After a few moments, she started hearing the clicks and clanks that meant someone was unlocking the various locks.

Frohike opened the door. “Mulder.” He let them in, and Scully tried to brush off the fact that she hadn’t been greeted. It wasn’t even _really_ Mulder, after all. “If I had known you were coming, I would have made more salsa.”

“We need your help right now,” Scully said, offering up the flight recorder to Langly.

“Who crashed?” He looked it over with interest.

“Who, what, why,” She said. “I need to know everything that’s on that data recorder.”

The three rattled off technical terms that she didn’t care to remember, then Byers turned to Fletcher. “Where did you get this?” He asked him.

 _What am I, chopped liver?_ “Groom Lake,” Scully answered. “Outside Area 51.”

“Dreamland.” Frohike raised his eyebrows. They had a brief discussion about some spy plane before Fletcher — browsing through an issue of the _Lone Gunman_ — started giggling to himself.

“What’s with him?” Frohike asked.

“Ignore him,” she said.

“Mulder-”

“He’s not Mulder,” She corrected with exasperation. 

All three Gunmen turned to her with questioning looks.

“This aircraft.” She pointed at the flight recorder. “When it crashed it somehow resulted in a…a body swap. Between Mulder and…” She gestured to Fletcher. “This asshole.”

The three looked confused, both by the situation and by the fact that _Scully_ was the one saying these sorts of things. They laughed nervously, but stopped when they saw she wasn’t laughing along with them.

“Asshole?” Fletcher sounded offended, putting down the paper and approaching her. “Listen here, lady, you probably wouldn’t have even realized I _wasn’t_ Mulder if you two weren’t banging.”

Scully stiffened, feeling three pairs of eyes slowly turn to look at her.

“Banging?” Langly asked.

She clenched her jaw, thinking quickly. “No, he’s just trying to rile me up because I embarrassed him when I caught him with Kersh’s secretary.”

“Kersh’s secretary?”

“Ah,” Fletcher nodded in understanding. “Keeping it a secret, huh?”

“There’s no secret to keep,” She bit back, her eyes threatening murder. Fletcher seemed more amused than fazed, though, which only angered her more.

The Gunmen exchanged looks, unsure who to believe. Scully inwardly groaned. _Great_. Now the three most suspicious men in the world had reason to wonder if she and Mulder were together. That'll be fun to deal with.

“Who the hell are you?” Frohike asked him.

Fletcher explained who he was, then managed to rile the three of them up by claiming to be the one who came up with most of their stories. Scully let it continue at first, simply grateful that they were distracted from the topic of her relationship with Mulder. But then Frohike brandished his spatula.

“The name’s Frohike, you punk ass. What the hell did you do with Mulder?”

“Shut up, all of you,” Scully stepped in, then pointed to the flight recorder. “If you guys want Mulder back, then get me these results.”

* * *

“You don’t look too happy. Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to put two kids through school.”

Scully looked up at Mulder, hugging herself. She still couldn’t quite believe it was him. “I just got off the phone with Frohike.”

She explained how the whole thing had been reliant on completely random variables — ones that they had next to no chance of replicating. And even if they could, there was no guarantee that it would work.

Looking completely downtrodden now, Mulder glanced over to the car where Fletcher sat. “What about him?”

She followed his gaze and sighed. “‘Agent Mulder’ has become Kersh’s new golden boy. The son of a bitch confesses to Kersh more than I do to my priest. I’m just tagging along for the ride.”

He turned back to her. “What do you mean, ‘just tagging along?’”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m out of the Bureau. I’ve been censured and relieved of my position.”

“No.” His voice was nearly a whisper. “You can explain it to them like you explained it to me,” he said urgently “You have the data. You can make them understand. You can get your job back.”

She looked back up at him affectionately, appreciating his sympathy. But she felt no desire to continue at the Bureau without him. Or worse — with a fake him.

“I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly,” she said, and meant it. By far one of the worst parts of this situation was that she wasn’t able to give him a proper goodbye. They’d known each other for years, but their relationship was still so new. Ever since it started, she’d been afraid of how it might end, but she’d never imagined it would be like this. Forced apart by some weird, random X-File. Not even a conspiracy, just completely random variables within a nearly impossible feat of science. She supposed it was some sort of poetic justice, maybe they even deserved it. Like so many other times before, a chance for happiness was being stolen away from her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Mulder smiled wistfully at her and nodded, looking like he wanted to kiss her anyway. They stared into each other's eyes the way they always did, and she wondered if he was thinking about the same things she was, but the moment was interrupted by Fletcher honking the horn.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He called out, his head hanging out of the window.

“If I shoot him, is that murder or suicide?”

“Neither, if I do it first.” She squeezed his arm, then turned towards the car. 

“Hey, Scully.”

She turned back, and he held out a closed hand in offering. She held out her own, and he dropped some sunflower seeds into it before taking one back to put in his mouth. _Yep,_ she thought, looking up at him. _That’s Mulder._

She got in the car and watched him get in his. What kind of lives would they have now? She didn’t know what she would do when she got back home. She couldn’t even teach at the academy anymore. Maybe she would turn back to medicine, finally returning to what would have made her parents proud years ago.

She only knew two things for certain: she wouldn’t stop searching for a way to fix this, to bring Mulder back. And she wouldn’t stop investigating X-Files. What was his life’s work had become hers as well, and she could only hope that continuing to investigate them would help heal what was being broken at having to leave him like this. Maybe she would even find a solution to this problem buried in a random case.

And what about Mulder? She indulged in wondering what he would do with his life as she drove. He had a wife now. And kids. And a more regular job than theirs had been. That normalcy that she’d asked about, he was now forced to experience without her. No doubt he’d try to repair Fletcher’s marriage despite the fact that he wasn’t him and didn’t love his wife. That was just the kind of person Mulder was. He’d learn to like the kids, probably even grow attached to them. Despite his insistence on being a misfit and an outcast, he had a knack for dealing with others. When he tried.

He’d go to work, probably using it as a way to get the inside scoop on some X-Files. She knew he’d never stop investigating them, either. Maybe someday, by complete coincidence, they’d meet up again on the same case. They’d catch up, and it would be nice, except it wouldn’t be. Because it would still be Mulder, but it wouldn’t be him, not fully.

She wiped away a stray tear as Fletcher started talking, telling some story about the motel manager.

* * *

“Come on, Mulder, let’s go.” Scully tugged on his sleeve, shooting a glare at the man who had confronted him. She saw him light a cigarette as they drove away.

For some reason, the four-hour red-eye back to Washington felt like it was nearly the tenth one she’d made. She brushed it off, assuming it was just because they were always flying. Mulder — in the seat next to her — looked like he was trying and failing to sleep.

“Sorry your confidential source didn’t pan out,” she murmured, not wanting to wake anyone who was actually sleeping.

He turned to her with a smile, then took her hand. “Well, I guess you were right, Scully. Just another crackpot who watches too much Star Trek.”

They managed to get back in time to change clothes at her apartment and go to work, where the two yawned all day and barely got any actual work done. Luckily, their unauthorized trip to Nevada seemed to go unnoticed by Kersh. At one point, Scully opened her desk drawer and noticed what looked like two coins fused together. _Where had that come from?_ She considered getting Mulder’s attention to show it to him, but decided she was too tired to hear a conspiracy ramble today. 

After work, they walked to her car (not having had time to drive him by his place to pick up his car before work). She yawned. “It’s Friday,” -which was strange. Wasn’t it just Monday? Maybe she was more tired than she thought- “are you staying at my place tonight? Or would you rather sleep alone?”

He yawned back. “I don’t know, Scully. After being treated to the comforts of your bed, it’s been getting harder and harder to fall asleep on my couch.”

“You should get your own bed, then,” she quipped, putting her car into gear.

“Then what would be my excuse for spending the night at your place?”

She snorted. “I can think of a few.”

They dropped by his place so he could grab some things, and she begrudgingly followed him up to his apartment, sleepily leaning against the wall next to his door as he unlocked it. His jaw dropped when he opened the door, then he checked his apartment number as if unable to believe he was at the right unit. 

“Mulder?” She straightened up. “What’s wrong?”

Wordless, he gestured into his apartment, and she turned to look. Her own jaw dropped at the sight of the spotlessly clean apartment with a few new tasteful decorations. They both stepped into it, mouths agape, and looked around.

“Mulder, did you...hire someone?” Her voice pitched up higher than usual due to her state of shock.

“No, I-” He stammered, then looked at her. “You aren’t joking with me, are you? Was this you?”

She shook her head, her eyebrows raised in innocence. “It looks nice,” she said, then turned to him with a cocked brow and a smirk. “But where will you put the white picket fence?”

He smiled and put an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, I was thinking right about here, in the middle of everything.”

She grinned at him, but he looked away, distracted. He’d noticed that his bedroom door was open and went over to it, peering inside.

“Scully."

“What?” She rushed over to look, following him into the room, but stopped short at the sight of a new bed. Standing proudly in the middle of his now-clean room. “Holy crap, Mulder. How- How did this get here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it was a gift. Maybe someone overheard you badgering me to get one,” he joked, but she wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Mulder,” She muttered, leaning towards the bed and looking up. He followed her gaze and saw his own reflection looking back. Slowly, they both turned to look at each other with equal amounts of incredulity.

“Well,” He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “I guess...gift horse and all that.”

“Mulder, you’re not at all suspicious about how this happened?”

“Right now, all I care about is getting some sleep. And now I’ve got a bed.” He sat down on it and was startled by how much it moved. 

“A _waterbed?”_ Scully’s eyebrows looked like they would just about shoot off her forehead.

He groaned and flopped back fully. “Just when I thought my back would get a break.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These episodes were a lot of fun for me to rewrite! It always bothered me that Mulder couldn't think of any other facts more intimate than what her daily lunch is when he's trying to prove who he is.


	4. would you believe it was supposed to be romantic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully buries herself in Christmas preparations and Mulder decides to try and distract her from thoughts of last year. Hopefully they can make it home before her mother's Christmas party in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was DETERMINED to post this before Christmas and then I got busy. I hope 2am on Christmas morning works agsdlasd
> 
> Covers HtGSC and Terms of Endearment! This is also where I'm starting a certain plot line...

After carefully tearing up his apartment in search of bugs (and then cleaning everything up at Scully’s behest), Mulder decided to keep the new bed. The two started splitting their time a bit more evenly between their apartments now that Scully could properly sleep at his place, and they rarely ever spent a night apart. 

As good as it was going, their relationship wasn’t perfect. One particular week was full of arguments and near-lateness to work after Mulder had accidentally snoozed Scully's alarm on a few separate occasions. Afterwards, she bought two new alarm clocks: one for Mulder to use at her place, and one for her to use at his. It was the sensible thing to do anyway, since she woke up earlier than him and couldn’t risk him turning off her alarm anymore. Mulder offered to pay her back for at least one of the clocks, but she just shrugged it off.

They argued about other things, too. Little things, mostly. Surprisingly, after so many years of working together and being in each others’ spaces so much, there was still a lot of stuff to navigate in this new phase of their relationship. Mulder left hair in the sink. Scully left her shoes wherever she removed them. His fridge was never stocked with anything other than leftover takeout and beer. Her stuff took up too much room in his shower.

But as much as they argued, none of it put their relationship any in real danger. In a strange way, bickering over trivial matters like whose toothbrush was whose (Mulder had two identical ones in his bathroom) lightened their relationship. When two people spend their lives with the weight of the world on their shoulders, the ability to spar over the fact that Scully put his things away in her apartment without telling him where they were (“Why are my ties in your closet?” “Mulder, they’re  _ supposed _ to be hung up”) or how bad the coffee she owned was (“Mulder, after all the shitty diners we’ve eaten at, I’m surprised you still have any standards for coffee”) felt almost like a weird blessing. A way to remember that under the conspiracies and experiments and edges that had been sharpened over the years, they were still two people. Two humans.

With the events at Area 51 forgotten by everyone involved, their relationship was no longer on the Lone Gunmens’ radar (not that they knew it ever was). Scully’s mother, however, seemed to notice a change in her daughter during a lunch with her. She seemed happier, more easygoing.

“So, how’s work?” Maggie asked, trying to figure out why there was a more jovial air around her daughter all of a sudden. 

“Uh,” Dana sighed and seemed to deflate a bit. “Not great. We had to investigate more manure cases this week.” She made a face and toyed with her salad.

Maggie nodded thoughtfully. Not work, then. “How’s Fox?”

Her daughter stiffened almost imperceptibly at that. “Mulder’s fine,” She said, her voice just a bit too high-pitched to be normal. An overshot effort to sound casual.

Maggie eyed her.  _ Ah _ . “Are you two...still partners?”

“Mhm,” She nodded too emphatically, not even looking at her mother.

Maggie narrowed her eyes, trying to study her daughter for any clues as to what was going on. She knew better than to ask — or even  _ think _ — that the two of them might be romantically involved. Dana had stated countless times that nothing was going to happen there, and Maggie had given up asking. But still,  _ something _ was different with her daughter, and she had a feeling Fox was involved.

There was no getting Dana to talk if she didn’t want to, though.  _ Oh well _ . Best to just wait to see if she would talk on her own.

* * *

Once December set off, Scully launched herself into full holiday mode. Decorations, presents, cards, church. If it had to do with Christmas, she buried herself in it. Some days she was overly cheery, others she was extremely serious — as if the type of wrapping paper she used for Matthew’s present was a life-or-death situation.

It was strange, coming into her apartment to see her covered in flour for the umpteenth time as she tried out yet another destined-to-fail Christmas cookie recipe. She wasn’t a great baker and seemed to know it, but she kept insisting on trying. Unwilling to fail and determined to make cookies for her mother for whatever reason.

It always went the same. Mulder would lie and say they tasted good. She would chide him for lying to her because she already knew they were awful. She would heave a sigh, dump the cookies in the trash, dust herself off, and start cleaning the kitchen. He would help clean where he could, but mainly stayed out of her way. And she would try again tomorrow, or whenever she was free.

Frightening as it was to see her like this, Mulder knew what she was doing. It had been a year since the events involving Emily. Scully was trying to put it out of her mind, trying to bury the bad memories with busywork and fake Christmas cheer. He didn’t want to pry her about it; dredging it up wouldn’t help her now. If she wanted to forget, he would help her forget. So he went along with her for nearly everything else, too. Present-shopping, decorating her apartment. He even offered to go to church with her at one point, but she thought he was joking and insisted on going alone. 

He wanted to do more for her, though. Maybe a date. A unique one. Not an X-File, or at least not anything resembling a case. She wouldn’t want to work one so close to Christmas and she would no doubt bring up the fact that they weren't working X-Files anymore. Maybe something X-Files-adjacent, though. Not a full case, but more like...an attraction. A field trip.

Maybe there was a haunted house in the area.

* * *

Mulder always felt out of place in the department store. It wasn’t because he felt awkward tailing Scully while she shopped for her last few gifts. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He was happy to follow her around and he had fun giving unwanted input on gifts for family members he’d never heard of. He could tell it amused her too.5hh

No, he felt out of place because it always seemed like every other man here looked like they’d rather die than be gift shopping with their significant others. They trudged along behind their wives and girlfriends and merely shrugged when asked for input on items. It was especially worse today, on Christmas Eve. No one seemed to be enjoying their last-minute shopping.

He supposed he should give the other men the benefit of the doubt, but then a few of them would try to exchange knowing looks with Mulder over what they interpreted as a shared negative experience. Shackled to the old ball-and-chain while she shops. He simply shot them a confused look and then leaned over to point out to Scully that blue throw pillows would probably look better with Cousin Lucy’s living room set.

“Mulder, you’ve never even met Lucy.”

“No, but I can see her living room in my mind’s eye.” There was a gleam in his eye. “It’s, uh, it’s nautical-themed. Little decorative anchors on the walls and those, uh, those clear vases full of sand and seashells. So...blue.”

She eyed him humorously. “Mulder, Lucy is afraid of the ocean. I can assure you that  _ nothing _ in her house is nautical-themed.”

“Oh.” He grinned good-naturedly. “Then go with the red ones.”

A half-hour later, they had moved on to the kitchenware section of the store.

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder started off cautiously as he watched her pore over two pans — one silver and one copper. She'd already gotten three things for her mom, but she’d noticed the sale on pans and commented how her mother needed a new one. “How do you feel about a...little field trip later?”

“Hm?” She didn’t look up from the items and it was apparent that she wasn’t listening. After a moment, though, the question seemed to register in her mind and she looked up. “What do you mean, ‘field trip?’”

He hesitated, then took the silver pan from her left hand. “Your mom’ll like this one better. It matches the rest of her stuff.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

“Mulder, what field trip?” She put the other pan down and followed him out of the kitchen section. “It’s Christmas Eve, this better not be some X-Files goose chase. And how do you know what my mom’s kitchenware looks like?”

“I’ve been to her house before, haven’t I?” He stopped and turned to face her. “And it’s not an X-File, it’s… Well…” He tilted his head and grimaced.

“It  _ is  _ an X-File.” She knew what that grimace meant.

“Not a  _ case _ . Just...phenomena.”

“Phenomena,” she repeated, reluctance on her face. “Mulder…”

“Look, we’re almost done here, right?” He straightened up, gesturing to the multiple items they were both holding. “Just a few more gifts, and then we’re good to go. The night’s still young and we’ll be there and back within plenty of time.”

She shook her head. “Mulder...I’ve-I’ve still got to wrap all this.”

“I’ll help you wrap.”

“It’s too far away.”

“You don’t even know where it is.”

“Well, where is it?”

“Only an hour’s drive.”

She licked her lips in thought and he knew he was close to winning.

“We’ve got family roll under the tree at six in the morning,” she argued. “For my mom’s Christmas party, remember? The one you didn’t even tell me you were going to?”

He smiled. Her mother had invited him over for Christmas nearly every year since they’d started working together. This was just the first year he’d accepted.

“Like I said, we’ll be there and back in plenty of time. C’mon, Scully, it’ll be fun.”

She glowered at him — the one that meant he'd won but she didn't want to admit it yet — then pushed past him to make her way to the candle section, where she started browsing. He followed her and stood right behind her, nearly touching her. Too close for her not to notice his presence. She ignored him though, pretending that the weird candle names were fascinating full-length novels.

After a few moments, she heaved another sigh and rounded on him, then nearly backed into the candle display when she realized just how close he was.

“Mulder-” She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back a bit, giving herself space. “What kind of phenomena are you even talking about?”

He gave her a toothy grin. “Have you heard the Tale of the Star-Crossed Lovers?”

* * *

“‘Cause you’re a lonely man,” the old man said to Mulder. “A lonely man chasing paramasturbatory illusions that you believe will give your life meaning and significance and which your pathetic social maladjustment makes impossible for you to find elsewhere. You probably consider yourself passionate, serious, misunderstood. Am I right?”

Mulder blinked.  _ “‘Paramasturbatory?’” _

“Most people would rather stick their fingers in a wall socket than spend a minute with you.”

_ Ouch _ . “Alright now, just uh...” Mulder held up his hands to stop the man. Who did he think he was? “Just back off for a second.”

The man didn’t back off, though. “Spend every Christmas this way? Alone?”

Ha. That was where he was wrong. “I’m not alone.” Mulder raised his chin in confidence.

The old man looked around at the room that was otherwise empty besides the two of them. “More self-delusions.”

“No, I came here with my partner. She’s somewhere in the house.”

“Behind a brick wall?” The man gestured towards the brick wall.

Mulder smiled and nodded.

“How’d you get her to come with you? Steal her car keys?”

His smile turned confused. “No, I asked if she wanted to come.”

“Did you  _ ask _ her or did you  _ pester _ her until she gave in?”

The smile dropped from his face. 

“You know why you do it.” The old man shook his head as if disappointed in him. “Listen endlessly to her droning rationalizations. ‘Cause you’re afraid. Afraid of the loneliness. Am I right?”

Was he? It was getting harder and harder to dismiss the man’s analysis. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

After a moment, he finally spoke. “I’d just like to find my partner.”

* * *

“Oh, you poor child.” The old woman clutched her robe closed around her neck and stepped towards Scully. “You must have an awful small life. Spending your Christmas Eve with him. Running around chasing things you don’t even believe in.”

“Don’t come any closer.” Scully’s gun shook in her hand. Whoever this woman was, she was suspicious. And she certainly didn’t need pity from some old woman who didn’t know her.

The woman ignored her, stepping closer anyway. “I can see it in your face. The fear. The conflicted yearnings. A subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another.” She took another step. “Intimacy through co-dependency.”

_ “What?” _ Scully’s panic gave way to incredulity. What the hell was she talking about? Intimacy through  _ what? _ Conflicted yearnings?

“Maybe you repress the truth about why you’re really here,” the old woman continued. “Pretending it’s out of duty or loyalty. Unable to admit your dirty little secret.”

Scully tensed. Dirty little secret?

“Your only joy in life is proving him wrong.”

* * *

“Do you realize how seriously disturbed that man is?” The old man asked. “How dark and lonely? What he's capable of?”

Scully simply blinked at him, unsure how to respond. This man was crazy. Mulder wasn’t dark and lonely, despite how much he might think of himself as such. Hell, only a couple of hours ago he was helping her pick out a new pan for her mother in a department store. Mulder may be spooky — and a little out there — but he was far from disturbed.

Someone pounded at the door. “Scully?”

“Mulder!” She started towards the door.

“Did he happen to mention a story about a lovers’ pact?” The man asked.

Scully froze. Mulder had told her the story. But surely he hadn’t brought her here for reasons like  _ that _ . This was just some...eccentric Christmas Eve X-Files date, or something. 

Right?

“The man is acting out an unconscious yearning,” the old man continued. “The deep-seated terror of being alone.”

“Scully!” Mulder’s voice sounded from the other side of the door again. “Scully, are you there?”

“I’m here, Mulder!” She called out, keeping her gun trained on the old man.

“Open the door, Scully!”

“Open the door,” she commanded.

The old man reluctantly obliged. Mulder entered, gun at the ready. “Where’s Scully?”

“Mulder?” She couldn’t help the flood of relief at seeing him.

But then he turned and fired his gun at her.

Scully flinched as the bullet missed her by a mile. Shaking with panic, she aimed her gun at him despite the fact that she knew she wouldn’t shoot him. “Mulder, what are you doing?”

He fired again, missing her. He wasn’t normally this bad a shot, but she was freaking out too much to really register that.

“Mulder!”

“There’s no getting out of here, Scully.” He had a deranged look in his eyes. “There’s no way home.” He shot again, hitting the wall behind her.

“Mulder, come on,” She moved sideways across the room to make herself a more difficult target. He stepped towards her. “Mulder, you’re scaring me. Put the gun down!”

“You gonna shoot me?!” He shouted.

“I’m not gonna shoot you! I don’t wanna shoot you!” She shouted back, trembling. Did he really think she would shoot him? What the hell was wrong with him?

“It’s me or you,” he ranted maniacally. “You or me. One of us has to do it.”

“Neither of us has to do it,” she countered. “Just- Just put the gun down!” 

He ignored her, instead focusing his aim.

“Wait!” She tried to calm her breathing. “Look,” Scully took her finger off the trigger and put her hands up in surrender, gun pointed away from him. When she spoke again, it was with a calmer voice. “Please, Mulder. I’m not gonna shoot you. I’m putting my gun down, see?” She started to lower her weapon. “This isn’t you, Mulder. Please, you have to trust me. You have to snap out of...whatever this is.”

A confused look flashed across Mulder’s face and he lowered his weapon a bit, glancing over at the old man.

“Mulder.” She holstered her gun and took a step towards him. He watched her warily, looking almost like a caged animal. Another couple of steps and she was able to put her hand on his wrist, lowering it even more. She searched his face for any sign that he was coming to his senses.

Mulder glanced down at where her hand lingered on his wrist and she pulled it away self-consciously. He looked back up at her. “Scully…do you love me?”

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he said, moving closer to her.

Scully backed away. “Mulder, what are you doing?” This wasn't like him. She couldn’t help glancing at the old man again, who looked particularly interested in what was going on.

Mulder’s hand on her shoulder brought her attention back to him. He leaned down.

“Mulder-”

She was interrupted by the feeling of his gun pressed into her stomach.

“Merry Christmas, Scully.”

_ CRACK _

* * *

Mulder stumbled down the stairs, unsure how he was able to move when he was in so much pain. At the bottom, he noticed a trail of blood in the foyer. He collapsed onto the floor and started crawling pathetically, following the trail. Around the corner, he spotted Scully crawling towards the front door in a similar fashion.

“Scully?” His voice was strained.

She flinched, then slowly, painfully rolled over and pointed her gun at him. Was she really going to shoot him again? He grunted and managed to pull out his own gun despite the fact he knew he could never shoot her.

They stayed in their stalemate for a few moments before Scully lowered her weapon with a groan and fell back on the floor. “Ah...I’m not gonna make it,” she said.

“You should have thought of this.”

_ “You _ should have,” she countered.

“You shot me first!”

“I never shot you, you shot me!”

Mulder blinked. He never shot her. Why did she think he shot her? And she was claiming she’d never shot him.

It hit him. Lyda and Maurice. It was another trick. Of course it was.

As if undoing some spell, Mulder realized he wasn’t actually bleeding. He wasn’t actually shot, he wasn’t in any pain. It wasn't real.

“Scully,” He rolled over and stood up, feeling considerably light. He grinned. “Get up.”

She scoffed, obviously thinking he was crazy. “I can’t.”

“Get up.” He moved towards her and showed her how he was fine. “You’re not shot.”

She looked up at him with disbelief. “What?”

“Come on, it’s a trick. It’s all in your head.” He reached down and helped her up. Once standing, she started patting at her abdomen in search of the bullet wound. She looked up at him in alarm, and they both glanced back towards the inside of the house as their hands sought each other and they took off through the front door.  They escaped from the haunted house hand in hand, only pulling apart to get in his car and drive away in a panic.

“Maybe it was a hallucination,” Scully said, her brain whirring at high speeds to search for an explanation. “Some sort of chemical could have been in that fog.”

“What kind of hallucinogen wears off once you realize it’s not real?” He countered.

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it when she couldn’t think of one. “Then it was, uh... It was all in our heads, I don’t know! But whatever happened in there, you owe me for it.”

“Owe you? You shot me!” He joked. 

“No I didn’t, and besides, you shot me first!”

“I never shot you.”

“Well, you dragged me out here in the first place.”

“Well, I-” He stopped and glanced over at her. “Would you believe it was supposed to be romantic?”

She chuckled, feeling a bit giddy from the adrenaline. “From you? I’d believe it.” 

He smiled to himself.

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, feeling her heart rate ease up a bit. “Only you would see a haunted house with stories about multiple couples killing themselves in it and think of it as a romantic destination.”

He chuckled. “Are you saying you didn’t find it romantic?”

“Mulder, you shot me.”

“I told you, that wasn’t me!” He grinned.

“Well, I still  _ thought _ it was at the time. And I wouldn't call it a pleasant experience.”

“I would never shoot you, Scully.”

“How romantic.”

“Of course, I know you can’t say the same since you’ve shot me before.”

“You were about to kill a man!” She argued. “I shot you to protect you.”

“Yeah, and then you dragged me out to New Mexico and I got blown up.”

“You lived, didn’t you?”

He laughed. Whatever had happened in there, they were alive. And her mind certainly seemed to be occupied with something other than last year's Christmas. Maybe a near-death experience wasn't the best replacement, but at least it was something.

Scully checked the time. “God, it’s already past midnight.” She sighed and let her head fall back against the seat again.

“It is?” He glanced over at her and saw that her eyes were closed. 

She nodded tiredly.

“Well...Merry Christmas.”

Her eyes snapped open in realization and she looked over at him with a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

* * *

They made it back to her apartment in one piece and were up for another hour wrapping presents. When they were done, they trudged to bed, falling asleep almost immediately. When her alarm went off too soon, they both groaned, having only gotten a few hours' sleep. Somehow, though, they managed to get up and make it to her mother's.

Christmas with the Scullys was more fun than Mulder had imagined it would be. He found himself wishing that he’d taken Mrs. Scully up on her invitation years ago.

The 6am roll call was only for immediate family, apparently. With Melissa gone and Charles off closing deals in Europe, this meant that it was just Scully, her mother, Bill Jr., and his wife and kid. And Mulder.

“Fox!” Mrs. Scully pulled him in for a warm hug as she answered the door. “So glad you could come.”

“Sorry, which one of us is your kid?” Scully poked her head out from behind him.

“Oh, Dana,” Her mother jokingly chastised her before also pulling her in for a hug. “He was just the first one to walk in, is all.”

“Mhm.”

“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Scully quickly took the bags of presents from the couple without giving them an opportunity to object. She led them into the living room, where Bill and Tara were already sitting on the couch. Bill shook Mulder’s hand with a stiff smile and Scully wondered if her mother had lectured him about being nice before they'd arrived.

Without much preamble and small-talk, they opened presents. Scully had gotten Mulder  _ Resident Evil 2 _ (“Langly told me you liked the first one” "You'd like it too, Scully. It's horror") and he’d gotten her the bottle of perfume that she'd always sampled whenever they were out shopping at the mall for presents.

“Perfume?” Bill asked, sounding unimpressed.

“I love it.” She gave her brother a pointed look before smiling gratefully at Mulder. She’d half-expected him to get her something obscure like that keychain from a few years back. “I wanted this one.”

Bill didn’t make any more comments after that.

At eight, the cousins and family friends started pouring in. Mulder was flabbergasted. He knew Scully’s family was Irish Catholic, but he’d never fully registered how that would apply to her extended family as well. He supposed he should have, considering how many presents he’d helped her buy for cousins. It was hectic and impossible to keep up with names, so he avoided using them. He stuck to Scully’s side like a burr, letting her navigate them through the party.

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” A man asked.

“Fox Mulder.”

“Fox? That’s an interesting name. And how do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we’re p- We work together,” He said, not wanting to cause any confusion.

“Ohh,” The man nodded. “At the...CIA?”

“FBI,” Scully corrected, evidently not very close to this particular cousin. Was he even a cousin? Mulder had no idea who was related to her and who wasn’t.

A woman — another cousin? — who had overheard their conversation leaned in to join them. “And are you two...together?” She asked curiously.

Scully’s cheeks turned ever-so-slightly pink. “No.”

“No, we’re just good friends.” Mulder took over, slinging a friendly arm around her shoulders. “I mean, after being partners for over five years, you either hate each other or you’re best friends, am I right?”

The other two both laughed and Scully gave a little chuckle too, looking more relaxed. They continued their conversation, but Mulder didn’t remove his arm from her shoulders. After a while, Scully realized that she had been leaning comfortably into Mulder’s side for who knows how long and quickly straightened up, slipping out of his grasp and excusing herself to go to the kitchen and get some eggnog. She ducked her head in hopes of hiding how red her face must be.

Alone in the kitchen, she braced herself on the counter and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It was stupid of her to panic like this, but she couldn’t help it. This was their first time out somewhere like this after getting together, but they couldn’t even act like a couple. It was too easy to relax with Mulder, and it was too fun being at a party with him. She was being too obvious and people were going to figure out they were together.

But on the other hand, it would be nice if they could actually act like a couple at this party. Would it really be the worst thing in the world if people knew? Keeping it a secret at work made sense, but it felt different at her mother's house in front of friends and family.

“Dana?” Her mother’s voice shook her from her thoughts. She was standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” She said, quickly straightening up and grabbing a cup.

“Sorry,” her mother said. “I just...noticed you left that conversation with Michael and Hannah pretty quickly. I was worried they said something to upset you.”

“Nope,” Scully smiled — a bit too widely. “Just getting some eggnog." She grabbed a second cup.

“For you and Fox?”

Scully stiffened ever so slightly. Was her mother implying something? Or was she just being paranoid? “Yeah, he wanted some too.” She tried to sound casual.

Her mother seemed like she wanted to say something but apparently dropped it, instead moving over to give her daughter a comforting pat on the shoulders. “Okay, honey.” She smiled. “I’ll see you back out there, okay?”

Scully nodded, not meeting her mother’s gaze. After she was gone, Scully leaned on the counter again. Was her mother suspicious of them? Was anyone else? Why was this so stressful? All she wanted to do was relax, to be casual and have fun with him in this setting, but she didn’t know how to do that.

After another bracing breath, Scully picked up both cups and headed out of the kitchen. She almost ran into Mulder in the doorway.

“Oh!” She yanked the cups back with a grimace until she realized they hadn’t spilled, then let out a sigh of relief.

Mulder, who had also pulled back to avoid an accident, leaned forward a bit. “Sorry, Scully. I was just checking on you. You left pretty suddenly.”

She nodded. “I’m okay, I just-”

“Mistletoe!” Someone shouted, interrupting her. Nearly everyone’s attention turned to them. Scully’s eyes widened and her face burned as her gaze slowly rose up. Sure enough, there was some mistletoe hanging above them in the doorway.  _ Shit _ .

“You guys gotta kiss!” Someone else shouted in a heavy Boston accent.

“N-No,” They both started protesting, then Scully’s mother appeared out of nowhere and whisked away the two cups Scully had been holding.

“Mom!”

“Sorry, Dana, rules are rules.” Her mother gave a fake sympathetic smile.

“She’s not sorry at all,” Scully muttered, half-believing that her mother had planned this somehow. Various people were shouting for them to kiss now.

“I don’t think we’re gonna get out of this, Scully,” Mulder said out of the side of his mouth.

She heaved a sigh, her hands on her hips, then gave him a quick nod of assent. Needing no more permission, he stooped down and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. More chaste than most of theirs had been since the very first. It was still nice, though, and Scully had to dig her fingers into her own hips to prevent herself from reaching out to him instinctively. She had a feeling he was having the same struggle.

They broke apart to the sounds of whoops and cheers, their eyes lingering on each others’ for just a moment before they turned back to face the party, their facades back in place.

Everyone quickly went back to whatever they had been doing before the interruption (Bill took the time to stare daggers at Mulder for a few more moments) and Scully’s mother handed them back their drinks. Scully couldn’t down her eggnog fast enough, grateful for the alcohol in it.

* * *

Maggie Scully studied her daughter and Fox throughout the day, only half-listening to conversations with family and friends. She noticed subtle differences from how she’d seen them act before. Dana would grab Fox’s arm to lead him to the next conversation, but her hand would linger longer than it needed to, her thumb even lightly rubbing his arm. He would bend down to whisper in her ear a lot, his mouth closer than it needed to be, and Dana always smiled at whatever he said. And above everything else, they stuck extraordinarily close to each other the whole time. Even if Fox looked like he was fully engaged in a conversation with someone, he would quickly follow Dana if she moved away.

Maggie smiled to herself and let out a little hum, certain that something was going on between those two. For now, she was satisfied with that much knowledge. She’d give Dana as long as she needed to tell her about it.

At one point, Matthew came charging into the room with the unstoppable momentum of a toddler who had recently figured out walking. Scully caught him easily, using his momentum to swing him up in the air before landing him squarely on her hip. “Where do you think you’re going?” She teased her nephew with a grin.

Matthew just laughed and clapped his hands in the way babies do.

“Are you trying to find your mama?” Scully asked, turning to look around the room. When she couldn’t find Bill or Tara, she turned to Mulder with a questioning look. He also did a sweep of the room — hoping his height would give him more insight — and then shrugged.

“Well,” Scully carried Matthew over to the couch and sat down, holding him on her lap. “We’re just gonna have to wait right here for them.”

Mulder sat down next to her and watched as she entertained the baby with faces and little games. She was like a completely different person around kids, and he couldn’t help smiling fondly as he watched her.

It also broke his heart, though. Knowing what had been done to her. What had been taken from her. He knew he had to tell her about the vial of her ova, and soon. He’d put it off too long already and she deserved to know.

But not today. He wasn’t going to let her have two ruined Christmases in a row.

After a while, he realized one of Matthew’s toys was on the coffee table in front of him. He grabbed it, offering it up to the boy and then pulling away, which made the baby squeal in entertainment. Mulder played this game with him for a while, not noticing the smile of adoration that Scully was giving him.

Across the room, Maggie looked on at the sight of the two of them with the baby and couldn’t help thinking how much it suited them.

* * *

After Bill and Tara returned (they had stepped out to get more ice) and Matthew was handed off, Mulder and Scully returned to mingling. She drank more eggnog than he thought her small frame would allow, and by the end of the day she was leaning against him and hugging his arm without a care in the world for who saw, smiling and blinking slowly at whatever a family friend was saying.

Dinner was a buffet-style potluck, and the food in her stomach seemed to sober her up some, but she was still visibly tipsy if not drunk. Afterwards, Mulder kept his arm around her — more to keep her upright than anything else.

“FBI, huh?” Someone asked. “Do you guys get any interesting cases?”

Scully gave an exaggerated frown. “Well, last night we went ghostbusting.” Her chin ducked down and then back up. “But that wasn’t an official case.”

“Ghostbusting?”

“Well, they weren’t  _ really _ ghosts of course,” She said emphatically, and Mulder couldn’t help smiling at how insistent she was, even in an inebriated state. “Mulder probably thinks they were.” She tapped her head against his chest. “But  _ I _ know” — she pointed at herself — “that it was just...a hallucination or something. Brought on by the...the creepy atmosphere and our heightened senses of-of panic.”

“...Oh.” The man looked visibly confused by what she was saying. “So...what exactly were you guys doing ghostbusting on Christmas Eve?”

* * *

After the party was over, Mulder guided a still-tipsy Scully to the car, helping her buckle in before getting in the driver’s side, then waved a final goodbye to her mother.

As he started the car and drove off, Scully smiled lazily at him, her head resting against the seat. “Thanks for today, Mulder. I had a lot more fun than I usually do.”

“I like your family,” He said. “Most of them. I never really, uh... _ got _ the whole family thing. Especially not after Samantha disappeared.”

She pouted. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “It’s okay. Today was fun to experience. Even if it was a one-time-only thing.”

“What makes you think it’ll be one-time only?” She asked. “My mom’s  _ definitely _ gonna invite you again next year.”

Mulder smiled at the thought. He hadn’t considered next year. Or the year after. He let himself indulge for a moment, imagining a future where he and Scully were happy. Staying together, attending her mother’s Christmas parties every year. Their situation was still hard for him to believe; he kept waking up expecting to find that it had been a dream, or that she’d changed her mind, only to see her sleeping soundly, pressed close to him. Or already awake and watching him with an adoring look that she only used when she thought he couldn't see.

“I really- I really do love you, Mulder,” Scully spoke up after a while, as if reading his thoughts and knowing his insecurities.

He laughed. “You’re drunk.”

“No,” She lifted her head off the seat and glared at him comically. “I’m not drunk, I’m just enjoying myself. And you’re the best…” She waved her hand dismissively a few times. “Partner, boyfriend, whatever.”

He grimaced. “I think I like partner better than boyfriend.” He wasn't too fond of partner, either. It fit them in a professional sense, but not outside of that.

“Mmm, but partner doesn’t feel right either,” She seemed to voice his thoughts as she pouted again, leaning back against the headrest.

“Then what does?”

She was silent for a few moments, then shrugged. “I dunno. You’re just...Mulder.”

He nodded, knowing what she meant. Of all the ways to describe their relationship, of all the words to label what they were to each other, his brain often just kept coming back to  _ Scully _ . That was what she was to him.

“‘Mulder’ isn’t exactly a label you can use to introduce me to people, though,” he joked.

“Mm.” She hummed in acknowledgment and was silent for a moment. Then she sat forward a bit, eyes wide in realization. “Mulder, was I clinging to you a lot tonight?”

He hesitated, which was enough of an answer for her.

“Ohh,” she put her head in her hands. “D’ya think anyone noticed?”

A lot of people definitely noticed, but he didn't want to tell her that. “Well…I think your mom is suspicious.”

“Well, she's been suspicious since she first met you.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, her face still hidden.

“Bill might've figured it out, too,” he added.

“Bill?!” She looked up at him, then flopped back in her seat. “Nuh-uh. If Bill knew, you wouldn't be alive.”

* * *

As soon as they got into her apartment, Scully threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips. She’d managed to sober up a bit more during the drive home and had gone from quite tipsy to just tipsy. Mulder pulled away, his hands planted squarely on her shoulders. She pouted, looking sad that he’d pulled away. God, he wished she wouldn't do that. It made it harder to stay away.

“What do you want? You want some water?” He asked, turning his head towards the kitchen.

“Noo.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirt and looked up at him through her lashes. Her intent was very clear.

His breath hitched and he had to clear his throat. He took her hand and pulled it away from his shirt. “I think you need some water and some sleep.”

“Mulderrrr.” She tried to move closer to him, but his hand on her shoulder kept her at arm’s length. She pouted again. Jesus.

“I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he said.

“I’m not drunk anymore, Mulder, I told you.” She stood up straight as if that proved it. “And I’m not some random girl you found in a bar, we’re already sleeping together.”

“Scully-”

“Mulder, I'm not drunk. I’m just a little tipsy. I'm still aware of my actions and what I'm saying. And I'm  _ very _ horny.”

Warmth pooled in his stomach at the way she said that, and he was distracted enough that she managed to slip out of his grip and pull him down for a deep kiss, pushing him backwards towards the bedroom and shedding various items of both their clothes on the way there.

It was a very merry Christmas.

* * *

Weeks later, Mulder drove them both back from Roanoke after finishing the demon baby case. Scully sat in the passenger seat, flipping through the case file and her notes and muttering how it didn’t make sense. She'd already lectured him multiple times on how a woman who's recently given birth couldn't possibly have moved around as much or done as much as Betsy supposedly had, to which he’d just shrugged and said that Betsy wasn’t human. Which, of course, wasn’t an acceptable answer for her.

“Hey, Scully?” He asked, his heartbeat quickening with nerves. 

“Hm?” She licked her lips as she continued looking through the file, not really paying attention to him.

“Remember, uh, last December? When I said why your- How the men who abducted you- Um…” He cursed himself for not practicing this.

She looked up from the file, giving him her full attention now. “How they extracted my ova,” she said bluntly. “Yeah.”

“I, uh…” He sighed. “Scully, there’s something I didn’t tell you.” He glanced over at her, then returned his attention to the road. “The men who were in charge of the lab...one of them let me take a vial of yours.”

_ “What?” _ Scully’s voice was quiet with disbelief. “You have them? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I...I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if they were okay,” He explained, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started this conversation while driving. This wasn't a car conversation.

“I don’t believe this.”

“Scully, you were...you were deathly ill. And I couldn’t bear to give you another piece of bad news.” He looked over at her and saw the pain and fear in her eyes.

“Is that what it was? Bad news?”

His lips pressed together grimly. “They… They said the ova weren't viable.”

She only stared at him, either too stunned or too upset to say anything.

“I-I know I should have told you sooner, Scully,” He said, wanting to apologize, to explain. “I just- You were dying, and then you were in remission and I didn’t want to risk your recovery. And then…” He sighed. “It was just never a good time. It still isn’t.”

“There’s not really a perfect time for this sort of news, Mulder,” she said bitterly.

“I know.” He glanced over at her so she could see his regret. “I’m really sorry, Scully.”

She nodded, looking more downtrodden by the news than mad at him. She put her face in her hands, hiding her emotions even from him, and stayed like that for a few minutes. He didn’t bother her, not wanting to invade her privacy. This really wasn't a car conversation.

After a while, she lifted her head. He could see the gears turning in her mind. She let out a slow, calculated sigh and he knew what she was going to say before she said it. Scully was ever the scientist.

“I want a second opinion.”

He nodded silently, eyes on the road. He didn’t tell her that he  _ did _ get a second opinion. And a third. And a fourth. After she’d gone into remission, he was desperate to give her more good news. But after consulting nearly every specialist in the city, he gave up. But he knew Scully wanted to find the answers herself, and he wasn’t going to get in the way of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the presents, I tried to loosely go off of the shapes of the ones M&S gave each other in canon (perfume bottles can be cylindrical, right? lmao)
> 
> Chag Sameach! And Merry Christmas! 
> 
> (Kudos and comments are great gifts!)


	5. i wouldn't want it to come between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting to hear about Scully's ova, Mulder takes her to Kansas to investigate some weird weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! I took a break from this fic after the holidays, and this was originally part of a MUCH larger chapter which made it nearly impossible to edit, so I split it in two. I've also edited so many times that I can't even stand looking at it anymore so i'm like fuck it.
> 
> (Covers Rain King, SR819, and part of Tithonus)

Scully took the ova to some doctor named Parenti, whose practice had cropped up in the time since Mulder had been investigating the ova himself. He apparently had glowing reviews from his previous patients in another city.

She had needed some space from Mulder for a couple of days after hearing the news. Room to process. Things were difficult between them at work; Scully barely looked at him or spoke to him. People noticed. No doubt the rumor mill was buzzing about why, though that wasn’t exactly high on his list of priorities.

After a few days, he answered a knock on his door to find her, arms crossed and visibly ticked off.

“You should have told me,” she said, marching past him and into his apartment without invitation.

“I know.” He watched her with a somber expression.

“Even if I was dying, even if it would have killed me faster.” Her voice rose and she thrust her fist towards the ground with each point, tears in her eyes. “I had a _right_ to know!”

He nodded. “I know. If I could redo it, I would.”

“This-” A small sob escaped her and she took a deep breath to prevent more. “I mean, I don’t even know how to feel about it! It’s- It could be my only chance, or it could be nothing!” She swallowed and looked upwards, trying to blink back her tears. “And- And it’s possible none of this will even matter because- Because they’re probably-” She lost the fight with her tears then, breaking down and stepping forward to hide her face in his chest. She sought his comfort even when he was the one she was mad at.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, resting his chin gently on her head. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice came out muffled as she spoke against his chest. “I just- I don’t want to let myself hope for anything…in case it gets ripped away from me.”

“Scully…” He let go of her to cup her now-blotchy face in his hands, looking into her watery eyes. “You can’t give up yet. Not while there's still a chance.”

He wiped at the tear tracks on her face with his thumbs and she searched his face, looking like she wanted to believe him. She let out a long, ragged sigh and he pulled her back into his arms.

“I’m still mad at you, by the way,” she mumbled into his shirt.

He chuckled. “I deserve it.”

“You really think I shouldn’t give up?”

He sighed, then kissed the top of her head. “Never give up on a miracle,” he murmured into her hair.

* * *

Despite her insistence that she was still mad, Scully warmed back up to him after that. Within the week, they were close to normal, save for the looming possibility of the test results. She tried to keep a more positive outlook. Not just with the case, but in general. Like Mulder said, she couldn’t give up yet.

The results from Dr. Parenti’s office were delayed for some reason, which only served to make Scully more anxious. In an attempt to distract her, Mulder took her on an off-the-books trip to Kansas for a case. He put on a face of overzealous delight at the sight of the mayor personally greeting them along with a young baton twirler. In return, Scully gave him a reluctant look.

The fact that the mayor assumed she was Mulder’s wife and not his partner irked her. She hoped it wouldn’t be a recurring issue in this small town.

* * *

To Mulder’s credit, the case did successfully distract her. Well, more like everyone in the town distracted her. Nearly every person they met seemed to have larger-than-life personalities, from Daryl’s assistant to Sheila to the so-called “Rain King” himself.

It was a curious case, she’d admit that much. But there wasn’t anything particularly unusual going on in this town. Droughts and sudden rains weren’t unheard of, and the fact that it had started raining when Mootz was doing his “rain dance” was just a coincidence. The idea of a single person controlling the weather was absolutely crazy.

And then a cow fell from the sky and landed in Mulder’s room.

The manager followed Scully as she went to find her partner. “Oh, Miss, we moved your boyfriend’s things into your room.”

Scully sighed. “He’s my partner,” she corrected. “And we’d prefer separate rooms.” Technically a lie, but they’d agreed to keep separate rooms on cases.

Practically everyone in this town had assumed she and Mulder were together, and it was starting to bug her. Were they being obvious? It didn’t feel like it. No, they were acting normal. Everyone in this town was just weird.

“Oh, old-fashioned, are you, huh?” The woman seemed like she couldn’t care less. “Well, we’re booked solid with the high school reunion. You can take it or leave it.”

Scully sighed as she walked away from the hotel manager and went to check on Mulder, using his possible head trauma as an excuse to run her hands through his hair. She supposed a cow crashing through his ceiling would be a decent enough reason for them to have to share a room.

* * *

That night, Scully sat in the chair in her motel room, her face deadpan as Mulder rambled on about his new theory. He now thought that Holman Hardt was the one controlling the weather. Which was impossible.

“Most people will admit that the weather plays a significant role in the way they feel, right?” He asked. “There’s even that disorder.”

“SAD — Seasonal Affective Disorder,” she said.

“Well, who’s to say it doesn’t work the other way around?” He asked. “That the way someone feels can affect the weather? That the weather is somehow an expression of Holman Hardt’s feelings, or- or better still, the feelings he’s _not_ expressing?” He raised his eyebrows as if expecting her to be impressed with him, which he should know better by now.

Scully gave him an impassive look. “Mulder, that is not the same thing at all. People can’t control the weather.” She stood up, getting into their debate. “I mean, it-it doesn’t work like that! Weather is based on a large number of variables that are completely out of the control of any one person! We are _done_ with this case and we’re going home in the morning.” She stopped when she realized he was smiling at her. “What?”

He shook his head, but the smile was still on his face. “Nothing.”

Crossing her arms, she tilted her head, giving him an annoyed look. “What?”

“Oh, I just- I just realized that I don’t have my own room to go back to.” There was a certain glint in his eye. She knew what that meant, and she hated that her body immediately reacted at the sight of it, betraying her.

She watched him as he put the case file on the nightstand and stood up. “Mulder.” Her tone was a warning, but she couldn’t ignore the jolt that went through her. She’d be lying if she said she’d never fantasized about the two of them in the same motel room on a case. Many times.

“Yes?” He had the audacity to try and sound innocent as he walked up to her, looming over her.

Fighting against the energy that was thrumming off of him, she kept her arms crossed and looked up at him indignantly. “Mulder, we have rules. Remember? You agreed to them.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, standing much too close to her now. “Separate rooms. But, the, uh- The universe seems to have intervened on that one.”

“Oh, I think you mean Holman Hardt," she teased, quirking a brow.

He smiled. “C’mon, Scully.” His voice was that low murmur that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. “I think this qualifies as an…extenuating circumstance.” He cupped her elbow, silently asking her to uncross her arms.

After a moment’s consideration, she uncrossed _one_ arm, reaching out to play with his tie. “I don’t know, Mulder,” she huffed. “If people can suddenly control the weather, and if I agree to that this is an extenuating circumstance, then we might have an epidemic of cows crashing through motel roofs.”

He smirked. “Well, if that’s what it ta-”

She cut him off by pulling him down by his tie into a kiss, wrapping her other arm around his neck as he relaxed into it. She was about to pull away when — without warning — he scooped her up and gently tossed her on the bed. She yelped as she landed, and had half a mind to chastise him when he got on top of her and kissed her again.

* * *

“I mean, you spend every day with Agent Scully; a beautiful, enchanting woman.” Holman shook his head in disbelief. “And you two never…?”

Mulder shook his head, his face neutral despite the fact that they had just had sex the night before.

“I confess, I…I find that shocking,” Holman said. “I- I’ve seen how you two _gaze_ at one another.”

Mulder’s shoulders tensed at that. They _gazed_ at each other? Was it that obvious? Ignoring it, he slung an arm around Holman’s shoulder and led him towards Sheila’s office. “This is about you, Holman. I’m here to help you. I’m perfectly happy with my…friendship with Agent Scully.”

He sent him in, wishing him luck. “And Holman,” He called after him. “I do not _gaze_ at Scully.”

A while later, Sheila left her office followed by Holman, who explained that she was actually in love with Mulder before leaving to sulk. Mulder then happened upon Sheila in an argument with Daryl.

“Hey!” Mulder called out, interrupting. “Hey, Daryl. Cut it out, man.”

They argued and fought. After Mulder pinned him to the wall and cuffed him, Sheila surprised him by grabbing his face and kissing him passionately, pushing him up against the wall before he could react.

Holman and Scully rounded the corner just then, both equally shocked at the scene before them. Holman quickly left, but Scully just stood there, mouth agape. Mulder spotted her with wide eyes as he repeatedly tried to push Sheila away. When he finally succeeded, Scully had to press her lips together to prevent from laughing at the sight of red lipstick smeared on his face.

“Um,” He scratched the back of his head, looking nervous. As if Scully would actually be mad at him for being ambush-kissed.

She cocked a humored eyebrow. “Mulder…the fog has lifted and if you’re ready, the plane is waiting.”

He was about to agree when he saw the red spots on the weather radar.

* * *

“You love him, don’t you?” Sheila turned away from the bathroom mirror to give Scully an accusing look.

Stunned, Scully could barely get out a “What?”

“You’re jealous because Agent Mulder and I have a special connection and you’re trying to divert me to Holman.”

Scully had to fight back her laughter. _“What?”_

Scully proceeded to tell the woman that she was _not_ in love with Mulder and that there was nothing between them. Never had been. The lie wasn’t so difficult after so many years of it being true.

“Not even a kiss?” Sheila asked in disbelief.

Scully shook her head.

Sheila sighed and turned back to the mirror. “Trust me, the man knows how to kiss.”

 _Oh, I know,_ Scully thought to herself, last night on her mind.

“I just never thought of Holman that way, you know?” Sheila continued, looking at Scully’s reflection in the mirror. “He’s my closest friend. And to not even suspect…”

Scully hesitated, thinking how Sheila almost reminded her of herself. How she’d been so afraid of risking her friendship with Mulder if they got involved romantically. She tried to think of what she would have wanted someone to say to her.

“Well,” She started hesitantly, worried about saying something that would give her away. “It seems to me that the best relationships — the ones that last — are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship.” She thought back to when her partnership with Mulder began. How they became fast friends despite their differences, immediately loyal to each other.

She thought of laughing in the rain with him. Of bailing him out of jail and taking him to a diner. Of him reaching over to wipe barbecue sauce off her face without thinking. How he’d fought desperately for her life countless times, and how she’d done the same for him.

“You know,” she continued. “One day, you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before.”

She remembered him handing her cross back to her after her abduction. How it had been warm from his hand. She remembered how he had advocated for her when she was trying to adopt Emily, no questions asked. How he’d brought her stolen ova to a specialist before telling her, hoping to give her good news. Everything they’d both done for each other. It had all built up over the years until-

“Like a switch has been flicked somewhere,” she said. “And the person who was just a friend is…” She smiled to herself fondly. “Suddenly the only person you can imagine yourself with.”

* * *

Mulder and Scully stood side-by-side, watching as Holman and Sheila — and many other couples in the gym — danced and kissed to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

“I never knew reunions could be so…” He trailed off, not able to think of the word.

“Wet?” She finished, her eyebrows raised.

Holman and Sheila approached them, arm in arm.

“Well, how’d it go?” Mulder asked, already knowing the answer.

Holman smiled at Sheila, then leaned in towards Mulder conspiratorially. “You should try it sometime,” he said, loud enough for Scully to hear. They walked off, leaving the two agents standing in the middle of the gym.

Scully turned to Mulder with a humored smirk. “Well, Mulder, what do you say? Think you’ll try confessing your love to me sometime?”

He smiled and took her hand, pulling her close to him as his other hand took her waist. She smiled back, placing her free hand on his shoulder as they swayed to the music.

* * *

Days later and back at home, Mulder and Scully sat in the waiting room of Dr. Parenti’s office. Mulder felt awkward being here. He felt like this should be a personal matter for Scully. A private matter. But she had invited him, and the look in her eyes had told him that she wanted him there for support.

Scully’s hand searched for Mulder’s as she saw Dr. Parenti enter the waiting room, clutching it tight. Parenti smiled and Scully felt her breath leave her chest. A smile meant good news, right?

“Ms. Scully?” He approached them, barely glancing at Mulder. “Got a good report for you. I’ve looked at the ova you’ve given me and consulted with some of my colleagues. We all feel that with the proper approach, we might be successful.” He smiled again. “Got a good chance to get you pregnant.”

“Oh…” Scully let out a shaky breath. She felt overwhelmed. “It’s- That’s too good to be true.” She glanced at Mulder, who looked equally surprised.

Dr. Parenti continued. “I don’t want to lay odds, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility if we start soon.”

They both looked up at him in amazement. “We can start right away?” Scully asked, incredulous.

“Well, you need a father, of course,” Parenti said. “I don’t know if you want an anonymous donor or if you…” he nodded towards Mulder. “Have someone in mind.”

The word “father” hit her in an odd way. She looked over at Mulder, whose face was carefully neutral, as if he was waiting for her response and would gauge his own appropriately. She knew he would do it if she asked. There wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for her at this point.

But it would mean he’d be a father. And she’d be a _mother._ The idea of having a child had suddenly jumped from an abstract concept to a potential reality. If she did this, she’d eventually have a baby — an _actual_ baby that she’d need to take care of. And while it was still something she wanted, it wasn’t something that she thought either of them were ready for. Not yet, at least.

“Do we have to start right away?” She asked, surprising both of the men.

“Well-” Parenti hesitated. “No, we don’t,” he said carefully. “But the longer you wait-”

“I’d like to wait,” Scully said, interrupting what was bound to be an argument about viability and biological clocks. She was a doctor; she already knew all that.

Mulder gave her a confused look. “Scully-”

“It’s okay, Mulder.” She turned to him and placed her free hand on his arm, giving him a look that told him they’d talk more about this later. “Really.” She took a deep breath and turned back to Parenti. “Right now, just…knowing that I have the option is enough.”

“If you’re sure…” Parenti sounded reluctant.

Scully nodded and stood up, squaring her shoulders. “I’m sure.” She registered Mulder standing up next to her as she let go of his hand to shake Dr. Parenti’s “Thank you so much. I’ll be in touch.”

Mulder waited till they were in the car to ask. “Scully, are you sure you want to wait? I wouldn’t mind-”

“I know you wouldn’t mind,” she said. “It’s not that. It’s…” She trailed off, trying to figure out her wording. “Our lives are… A lot is up in the air,” she finally said. “But we…we’re in a good place right now. With this.” She gestured vaguely between the two of them. “And as weird as it might sound, I wouldn’t want it to come between us. I’d rather wait, if we can.” A brief, firm nod punctuated her sentence.

He nodded back, giving her a brief smile as he squeezed her hand. What she didn’t tell him was that as soon as she found out that her ova were viable, she realized she didn’t actually _want_ kids right now. She wasn’t quite at that stage yet. More than anything else, what she’d wanted was the _option._ To know that it was a possibility.

“And besides,” she continued. “I don’t think either of us are really ready to be parents.”

He chuckled and leaned across the center console. She met him in the middle for a kiss. When they pulled away, he smiled at her fondly “Well, I’m here for you. No matter what. If you change your mind and decide you want to do it, I’m with you.”

She smiled.

On the way home, though, Mulder started thinking. It was strange that Parenti had suddenly found the ova viable after repeated negatives, right? Mulder wasn’t a scientist, but that seemed suspicious to him. He glanced over at Scully, who was staring out the window with a small smile on her face. He thought of everything that had been done to her. The experiments, the cancer, the infertility. What if this was somehow part of that? A continuation of the nightmare? It seemed crazy to suspect a random OB/GYN of being involved in a government conspiracy, but it would be far from the strangest thing they’d encountered.

He decided not to voice his concerns to Scully. Not right now. He didn’t want her to think that he was just trying to back out of what he’d said, or discourage her from doing it. No, he’d investigate it on his own. He’d only let her know if he found something. If there was nothing, then no harm done, right?

He owed it to her.

* * *

Mulder’s investigation was delayed by Skinner’s sudden, mysterious illness. He and Scully both threw themselves into the investigation in hopes to save him. She investigated the disease from a scientific perspective while he sought out the man who had poisoned their boss. Skinner’s abrupt and ungrateful treatment of them at the end of it, though, surprised them. They wondered what was up, but decided not to press it.

When Scully was given a case that was no doubt an X-File, Mulder pushed down his jealousy and tried to view it as an opportunity to investigate Dr. Parenti without her noticing.

Still, he was curious. He pulled up the photos of the crime scene and was studying them when she returned from her meeting with Kersh.

“Mulder…” Her tone was a mild warning as she saw what he was looking at.

“Hmm?” Innocent.

“What are you doing?”

“Being nosy.” He turned and looked at her wistfully. “Eating my heart out. They’re sending you on an X-File.”

She shook her head, packing up her briefcase. “It’s not an X-File.”

“That’s not what I’m reading.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m thinking murder by telekinesis. I’m thinking…maybe a shamanistic death touch.”

She gave him an unamused look.

“I’m thinking about the Muslim superstition that to photograph someone is to steal their soul.”

“Thank you,” She said, giving him her _Mulder, you’re an idiot_ look. “All very helpful.”

He hesitated, afraid to speak his fear. “So, they’re splitting us up, huh?”

Her expression softened. “No.”

“No?”

“This is a one-time thing,” She reassured him, but it seemed like she was also trying to reassure herself.

“Who told you that?” He asked. “Obviously, if you do a good job, they’re not gonna stick you back here.”

They looked at each other for a few moments, both afraid of whether he was right.

“Right?” He asked, a bit softer this time.

Scully broke eye contact as she saw Agent Ritter enter the bullpen, and she stepped around Mulder’s desk to turn off his monitor.

“Agent Scully, we’re all set.”

Scully smiled tightly. “Peyton Ritter, this is Fox Mulder.”

Ritter nodded at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fox.”

 _Fox?_ Mulder’s eyebrows rose and he and Scully exchanged looks. The greenhorn was pretty bold to use his first name without any formality. No doubt he’d try to call Scully “Dana.”

Making a point, Mulder stayed in his chair as he shook the younger man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you…Peyton.”

* * *

After Scully and Ritter left, Mulder decided to get cracking on the Parenti investigation. He figured he’d better start with a background check, since that was his job now.

One hour of research later and the background check revealed nothing immediately suspicious. James Parenti had no priors, graduated from a regular med school, and had been working as an OB/GYN for years. No medical malpractice, no suspicious activity. Just an abundant amount of current and former patients who gave glowing reviews. Even his IVF program was astounding, boasting a ninety-percent success rate.

Mulder sighed and leaned back in his chair, feeling defeated. Maybe there was nothing here. Maybe he was being paranoid. Not everyone was out to ruin his and Scully’s lives and use them for a dark conspiracy. He stared at the computer screen, letting his eyes go out of focus as the numbers glared back at him.

And then it hit him. Ninety-percent? He sat up straight. He wasn’t a scientist, but that was cause for suspicion, right? He vaguely recalled Scully saying a while back that IVF treatments had something like a forty-percent success rate. So how was Dr. Parenti’s so high? Did he have access to something?

Mulder printed out the page and went to leave, then stopped and returned to his computer. He grabbed Ritter’s contact information from the database and set his computer to intercept anything sent from him to AD Kersh. He silently thanked Byers for the nifty little program that he had given him as a gift a while back. Despite having his own investigation, he was curious about Scully’s case. Plus, at this point in their partnership, she’d probably be suspicious of him if he _didn’t_ call with unwarranted opinions on the case.

With that done, he grabbed the paper and left on a late lunch, knowing exactly where to take this information.

* * *

“Mulder, long time no see,” Byers greeted him at the door.

“Shouldn’t you be chained to your desk doing background checks right now?” Langly asked from where he was leaning back in the desk chair, hands behind his head.

“I’m just dropping by, I-I need a favor from you guys,” Mulder smiled — hoping he didn’t look awkward — as he walked in.

“When do you not?” Frohike was seated at the drafting table, tinkering with some gadget Mulder didn’t recognize. He barely even glanced up when Mulder came in.

“What do you need?” Byers asked.

Mulder handed him the folded paper. “I need your help looking into someone. Dr. James Parenti. You guys heard of him?”

They exchanged shrugs. “I assume he’s a doctor?” Byers said, looking at the paper.

“Yeah,” Mulder said. “An, uh, an OB/GYN to be exact. With a suspiciously high success rate for in vitro fertilization.”

“How high?” Langly asked.

“Ninety-percent.” Byers read off the paper, then looked at Mulder with surprise.

Frohike finally looked up from the gadget with raised eyebrows. “That _is_ high.”

Mulder nodded. “Yeah, it’s usually, like, forty-percent, right?”

“Depends on a lot of factors,” Langly explained. “But yeah, that’s the general number.”

“Why are you looking into him?” Byers asked.

Mulder opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Routine background check,” he lied. “I couldn’t find anything suspicious about him except for this, so I was hoping you guys could look into it more.”

“Think it’s an X-File?” Langly sounded intrigued before Byers pushed him aside for access to the computer. “That he’s using alien technology to up his success rate?”

Mulder’s jaw tensed. The thought _had_ occurred to him, but he hadn’t wanted to voice those thoughts out loud. “Could be,” he answered shortly, then checked his watch. “I gotta get back to the Bureau.”

“Okay. We’ll contact you or Scully if we find anything.”

Mulder, halfway to the door, stopped and turned back. “Uh, just me on this one, boys. Not Scully.”

The Gunmen exchanged looks, suspicions piqued. _Great._

“Scully doesn’t know about this?” Byers asked.

“She- She’s on another case,” Mulder explained. The three exchanged looks again, none of them voicing the fact that that sort of thing had never stopped the two of them from consorting before. “Look,” Mulder stepped towards them again, a serious look on his face. “Just- Just keep this between us, okay? Promise you won’t bother Scully with it.”

He knew he was being suspicious. It wouldn’t be hard for the three of them to figure out the connection between an OB/GYN and Mulder’s barren partner whose ova he had found (with their help, to boot). But it was important. He didn’t want to concern Scully with this until he was _sure_ something was wrong.

The Gunmen gave hesitant nods and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said. “Let me know what you find, okay?”

“Mulder,” Frohike called after him, causing him to stop and turn around again. The older man had put down his gadget and gave him a serious look. “If this involves Scully, she deserves to know that something’s going on.”

“I know,” Mulder said grimly, not bothering to deny it. “But first I need to find out if something _is_ going on.” He left without another word.

Frohike was right. Scully deserved to know. But she also deserved proof that this wasn’t just a crazy Mulder theory, especially in a matter this serious. He would tell her as soon as he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be coming out soon! Thank you for your patience!


End file.
